X 


■" —— 


i  NAPOLEON  i 

i  THE • LAST • PHASE  i 


Affiii 


ff^A 


jfvt^ 


■  MMMMMJllMM" 


■■■■■■■■■■I 


LORDROSEBERY 


^APOLEON 

THE    LAST    PHASE 


BY 


LORD    ROSEBERY 

V 


HARPER     AND     BROTHERS 

NEW    YORK    <S^•     LONDON 


1900 


M 


W 


Copjrright,  1900,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 
All  rights  rescrv(4% 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  rAGB 

I.  The  Literature i 

II.  Las  Cases,  Antommarchi,  and  Others  ....  9 

III.  GOURGAUD 38 

IV.  The  Deportation 63 

V.  Sir  Hudson  Lowe 73 

VI.  The  Question  of  Title 85 

VII.  The  Money  Question 102 

VIII.  The  Question  of  Custody 109 

IX.  Lord  Bathurst 129 

X.  The  Dramatis  Persons 136 

XI.  The  Commissioners 150 

XII.  The  Emperor  at  Home 164 

XIII.  The  Conversations  of  Napoleon 180 

XIV.  The  Supreme  Regrets 217 

XV.  Napoleon  and  the  Democracy 227 

XVI.  The  End 238 

Appendix 279 


NAPOLEON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 


CHAPTER  I 
THE     LITERATURE 


Will  there  ever  be  an  adequate  life  of  Napoleon? 
Hitherto  it  has  been  scarcely  worth  while  to  ask  the 
question,  as  we  have  been  too  near  the  prejudices  and 
passions  of  his  time  for  any  such  book  to  be  written. 
Nor  are  we  as  yet  very  remote,  for  it  may  be  noted 
that  our  present  sovereign  was  all  but  two  years  old 
when  Napoleon  died,  and  that  there  are  still  probably 
in  existence  people  who  have  seen  him.  Moreover, 
the  Second  Empire  revived  and  reproduced  these  feel- 
ings in  almost  their  original  force,  and  the  reaction 
from  the  Second  Empire  prolonged  them.  So  we  are 
still,  perhaps,  not  sufficiently  outside  Napoleon's 
historical  sphere  of  influence  for  such  a  book  to  be 
written. 

Nor  until  recently  did  we  possess  anything  like 
adequate  materials.  The  pages  and  pages  that  fol- 
low Napoleon's  name  in  library  catalogues  mainly 
represent  compilations,  or  pamphlets,  or  lives  con- 
scientiously constructed  out  of  dubious  or  inade- 
quate materials,  meagre  bricks  of  scrannel  straw. 
But  now,  under  a  government  in  France  which  opens 

I 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

its  records  freely,  and  with  the  gradual  publication 
of  private  memoirs,  more  or  less  authentic,  we  are 
beginning  perhaps  to  see  a  possible  limit  to  possible 
disclosure.  The  publication  of  the  suppressed  cor- 
respondence removes  a  reproach  from  the  official 
publication,  and  fills  its  blanks.  And  the  mania 
for  Napoleonic  literature  which  has  prevailed  for 
some  years  past,  unaccompanied,  strangely  enough, 
by  any  sign  of  the  revival  of  Bonapartism  as  a  po- 
litical force,  has  had  the  effect  of  producing  a  great 
supply  to  meet  a  greedy  demand — a  supply,  indeed, 
by  no  means  always  unquestionable  or  unmixed, 
but  at  any  rate  out  of  the  harvest  of  its  abundance 
furnishing  some  grains  of  genuine  fact. 

The  material,  then,  varied  and  massive  as  it  is, 
seems  to  be  ready  for  the  hand  of  the  destined  work- 
man, when  he  shall  appear.  And  even  he  would 
seem  not  to  be  remote.  In  the  great  narrative  of 
the  relations  of  Napoleon  and  Alexander  of  Russia 
we  wish  to  see  his  shadow  projected.  Is  it  too  much 
to  hope  that  M.  Vandal  will  crown  the  services  that 
he  has  rendered  to  history  in  that  priceless  work  by 
writing  at  least  the  civil  life  of  Napoleon?  Might 
not  he  and  M.  Henri  Houssaye,  who  has  also  done 
so  much  so  well,  jointly  accomplish  the  whole? 

We  speak  of  a  partnership,  as  we  do  not  conceive 
it  to  be  possible  for  any  one  man  to  undertake  the 
task.  For  the  task  of  reading  and  sifting  the  ma- 
terials would  be  gigantic  before  a  single  word  could 
be  written.  Nor,  indeed,  could  any  one  man  ade- 
quately deal  with  Napoleon  in  his  military  and  his 
civil  capacities.  For  Napoleon,  says  Metternich,  a 
hostile  judge,  was  born  an  administrator,  a  legislator, 
and  a  conqueror;  he  might  have  added,  a  statesman. 

2 


THE   LITERATURE 

The  conqueror  of  1796-1812,  and,  it  may  be  added, 
the  defender  of  1813  and  18 14,  would  require  a  con- 
summate master  of  the  art  of  war  to  analyze  and 
celebrate  his  qualities.  Again,  Napoleon  the  civilian 
would  have  to  be  treated,  though  not  necessarily  by 
different  hands,  as  the  statesman,  the  administrator, 
the  legislator.  Last  of  all,  there  comes  the  general 
survey  of  Napoleon  as  a  man,  one  of  the  simplest 
character  to  his  sworn  admirers  or  sworn  enemies, 
one  of  the  most  complicated  to  those  who  are  neither. 

And  for  this  last  study  the  most  fruitful  material 
is  furnished  in  the  six  years  that  he  spent  at  St.  Hele- 
na, when  he  not  merely  recorded  and  annotated  his 
career,  but  afforded  a  definite  and  consecutive  view 
of  himself.  ' '  Now, "  as  he  said  there  himself, ' '  thanks 
to  my  misfortune,  one  can  see  me  nakedly  as  I  am." 
What  he  dictated  in  the  way  of  autobiography  and 
commentary  has  never  perhaps  received  its  just  meas- 
ure of  attention.  Some  one  has  said  somewhere 
that  the  memoirs  he  produced  himself  appear  to  be 
neglected  because  they  are  the  primitive  and  author- 
itative documents,  so  far  as  he  is  concerned,  of  his 
life.  People  prefer  to  drink  at  any  other  source  than 
the  original;  more  especially  do  they  esteem  the 
memoirs  of  any  who  came,  however  momentarily, 
into  contact  with  him.  What  the  man  himself  thought 
or  said  of  himself  seems  to  most  of  those  who  read 
about  Napoleon  a  matter  of  little  moment.  What 
they  want  to  read  is  Bourrienne,  or  R^musat,  or  Con- 
stant, or  the  like.  They  may,  no  doubt,  allege  that 
Napoleon's  own  memoirs  are  not  so  spicy  as  those 
of  some  of  his  servants,  and  that  they  are  by  no  means 
to  be  always  relied  upon  as  unbiased  records  of  fact. 
Still  they  remain  as  the  direct  deliberate  declarations 

3 


NAPOLEON:   THE  LAST  PHASE 

of  this  prodigy  as  to  his  achievements,  and  they  con- 
tain, moreover,  commentaries  on  the  great  captains 
of  the  past — Caesar,  Frederic,  and  Turenne — which 
cannot  be  without  serious  interest  to  the  historian 
or  the  soldier. 

Nor  must  this  indifference  to  truth  count  for  too 
much  in  an  estimate  of  Napoleon's  character.  Truth 
was  in  those  days  neither  expected  nor  required  in 
continental  statesmanship  —  so  little,  indeed,  that 
half  a  century  afterwards  Bismarck  discovered  it  to 
be  the  surest  means  of  deception.  Napoleon's  fiercest 
enemies,  Metternich  and  Talleyrand,  have  now  given 
us  their  memoirs.  But  we  should  be  sorry  to  give 
a  blind  credence  to  these  in  any  case  where  their  per- 
sonal interest  was  involved.  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena 
was,  as  it  were,  making  the  best  case  for  himself, 
just  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  in  his  bulletins. 
His  bulletins  represented  what  Napoleon  desired  to 
be  believed.  So  did  the  memoirs.  They  are  a  series 
of  Napoleonic  bulletins  on  the  Napoleonic  career, 
neither  more  nor  less. 

But  there  is  one  distinction  to  be  drawn.  In  writ- 
ing his  bulletins.  Napoleon  had  often  an  object  in 
deceiving.  At  St.  Helena  his  only  practical  aim  was 
to  further  the  interests  of  his  dynasty  and  his  son. 
So  that  where  these  are  not  directly  concerned  the 
memoirs  may  be  considered  as  somewhat  more  re- 
liable than  the  bulletins. 

The  literature  of  St.  Helena  is  fast  accumulating, 
and  must  be  within  a  measurable  distance  of  com- 
pletion. Eighty-four  years  have  elapsed  since  a 
greedy  public  absorbed  five  editions  of  Warden's 
Letters  in  five  months:  seventy  -  eight  since  the 
booksellers  were  crowded  with  eager  purchasers  for 

4 


THE   LITERATURE 

O'Meara's  book.  It  is  perhaps  not  too  much  to  hope 
that  his  manuscript  journal,  which  now  sleeps  in 
California,  may  soon  be  published  in  its  entirety, 
for  it  is  said  to  be  full  of  vivid  and  original  matter; 
while  it  might  throw  light  on  the  discrepancies  be- 
tween his  Voice  from  St.  Helena  and  his  private 
communications  to  the  English  officials  at  the  Ad- 
miralty and  at  Plantation  House.*  Then  we  have 
had  the  voluminous  batteries  of  Gourgaud,  Montho- 
lon,  and  Las  Cases  (whose  suppressed  passages  might 
also  be  safely  produced,  if,  indeed,  they  exist,  or  ever 
existed)  met  by  the  ponderous  defence  of  Forsyth 
and  the  more  effective  abstract  of  Seaton.  We  have 
had,  too,  the  light  artillery  of  Maitland  and  Glover, 
and  Cockbum  and  Santini,  and  the  madcap  "Miss 
Betsy,"  who  became  Mrs.  Abell.  We  have  the  his- 
tories of  St.  Helena  by  Barnes  and  Masselin.  And 
in  l8i6,  a  former  Governor,  General  Beatson,  availed 
himself  of  the  sudden  interest  in  the  island  to  launch 
on  the  public  a  massive  quarto  detailing  its  agri- 
cultural features  with  a  minuteness  which  could 
scarcely  be  justified  in  the  case  of  the  Garden  of  Eden. 
We  have  the  tragedy  of  Antommarchi,  whatever 
that  effort  may  be  worth.  Of  late,  too,  the  commis- 
saries have  taken  the  field;  Montchenu,  Balmain, 
and  Sturmer  have  all  yielded  their  testimony. 
So  has  Mme.  de  Montholon.  Napoleon,  indeed, 
urged  his  companions  to  record  his  utterances  in 
journals,  and  frequently  alluded  to  the  result.  "  Yes- 
terday evening," says  Gourgaud,  "the  Emperor  told 
me  that  I  might  turn  my  leisure  to  profit  in  writing 

*  Since  this  was  written,  portions  have  been  published  in  the 
Century  magazine,  which  make  it  abundantly  clear  that  O'Meara 
skimmed  off  a'l  the  valuable  matter  for  the  Voice, 

5 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST  PHASE 

down  his  sayings:  I  would  thus  gain  from  500  to 
1000  louis  a  day/'  He  was  cognizant  of  the  journal 
of  Las  Cases,  which  was  dictated  to  or  copied  by  St. 
Denis,  one  of  the  servants,  whom  Napoleon  would 
sometimes  question  as  to  its  contents.  O'Meara's 
journal  was  read  to  him.  He  took  it  for  granted  that 
they  all  kept  journals,  and  he  was  right.  For,  ex- 
cept the  faithful  Bertrand  and  the  wife  who  divided 
with  the  Emperor  his  affection,  none  of  the  actors 
in  that  dreary  drama  have  held  their  peace. 

Lately,  however,  there  have  appeared  two  further 
contributions;  and  it  may  be  considered  that,  while 
both  are  striking,  one  exceeds  in  interest  all  the  pre- 
vious publications  of  St.  Helena,  from  the  light  that 
it  throws  on  Napoleon's  character.  Lady  Malcolm's 
Diary  of  St.  Helena  gives  a  vivid  account  of  the 
Emperor's  conversations  with  Sir  Pulteney,  and  an 
impartial  account  of  Lowe,  which  seems  to  turn  the 
balance  finally  against  that  hapless  and  distracted 
official.  But  the  second  publication  is  in  some  re- 
spects not  merely  the  most  remarkable  book  relating 
to  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena,  but  to  Napoleon  at  any 
time.  It  is  the  private  diary  of  Gourgaud  written 
entirely  for  his  own  eye,  though  the  editors  seem  to 
think  that  the  latter  part  at  any  rate  may  have  been 
prepared  for  the  possible  detection  of  Lowe.  But  the 
great  bulk  was  obviously  prepared  for  no  one  except 
Gourgaud,  since  it  could  please  no  one  else,  and 
scarcely  Gourgaud.  It  embodies,  we  believe,  the 
truth  as  it  appeared  to  the  writer  from  day  to  day. 
It  throws  a  strange  light  on  the  author,  but  a  still 
newer  light  on  his  master.  But  when  we  have  read 
it  we  feel  a  doubt  of  all  the  other  records,  and  a  con- 
viction that  this  book  is  more  nearly  the  unvar- 


,.      THE   LITERATURE 

nished  truth  than  anything  else  that  has  been  put 
forth. 

For  there  is  one  rule,  to  which  we  fear  we  can  scarce- 
ly make  an  exception,  which  applies  to  all  the  Long- 
wood  publications:  they  are  none  of  them  wholly 
reliable.  If  we  did  make  an  exception,  it  would  cer- 
tainly be  in  favor  of  Gourgaud.  And  it  may  fur- 
ther be  said  that  their  veracity  increases  in  propor- 
tion to  the  remoteness  of  their  publication  from  the 
events  to  which  they  relate.  Gourgaud,  who  is  pub- 
lished in  1898,  is  more  truthful  than  Montholon,  who 
publishes  in  1 847;  and  Montholon,  again,  is  more 
truthful  than  Las  Cases,  who  publishes  in  1823. 
Least  of  all,  perhaps,  to  be  depended  on  is  O'Meara, 
who  published  in  1822.  In  all  these  books,  except, 
perhaps,  the  latest,  there  are  gross  instances  of  mis- 
representation and  fabrication.  And  yet  to  accuse 
all  these  authors  of  wanton  unveracity  would  not  be 
fair.  It  was  rarely,  if  ever,  wanton.  Partly  from 
idolatry  of  Napoleon,  partly  to  keep  up  a  dramatic 
representation  of  events  at  St.  Helena,  and  so  bring 
about  his  liberation,  facts  were  omitted  or  distorted 
which  in  any  way  reflected  on  their  idol  or  tended  to 
mar  the  intended  effects.  There  seems  to  have  been 
something  in  the  air  of  St.  Helena  that  blighted  ex- 
act truth;  and  he  who  collates  the  various  narratives 
on  any  given  point  will  find  strange  and  hopeless 
contradictions.  Truth  probably  lurks  in  Forsyth, 
but  the  crushing  of  the  ore  is  a  hideous  task;  and, 
for  various  other  reasons,  it  is  equally  difi&cult  to 
find  in  the  more  contemporary  narratives.  There  is 
a  strange  mildew  that  rests  on  them  all,  as  on  the 
books  and  boots  in  the  island.  One  has  to  weigh 
each  particle  of  evidence  and  bear  in  mind  the  char- 

7 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

acter  of  the  witness.  Sometimes,  indeed,  we  may  be 
charged  with  having  quoted  from  sources  which  we 
have  described  as  tainted.  We  could  scarcely  quote 
from  any  others.  But  where  the  testimony  seems  of 
itself  probable,  and  where  no  object  but  truth  is  per- 
ceptible in  it,  we  have  no  choice  but  to  cite  from  what 
documents  there  are. 

One  striking  circumstance  remains  to  be  noticed. 
Of  the  last  three  years  of  Napoleon's  life  we  know 
scarcely  anything.  From  the  departure  of  Gour- 
gaud,  in  March,  i8i8,  to  the  end  of  May,  1821,  we 
know  practically  nothing.  We  know  what  the  Eng- 
lish outside  reported.  We  have  an  authorized,  but 
not  very  trustworthy,  record  from  within.  But,  in 
reality,  we  know  nothing,  or  next  to  nothing. 


CHAPTER  II 

LAS  CASES,  ANTOMMARCHI,  AND  O^IHERS 

The  book  of  Las  Cases,  which  is  the  most  massive, 
and  perhaps  the  most  notorious,  is  not  without  a  cer- 
tain charm  of  its  own.  First  pubhshed  in  eight  vol- 
umes, it  was  subsequently  compressed,  and  under  the 
title  of  Memorial  of  St.  Helena,  adorned  with  the 
quaint  and  spirited  designs  of  Charlet,  has  obtained 
a  world-wide  circulation.  Las  Cases  is  said,  indeed, 
though  no  doubt  with  much  exaggeration,  to  have 
realized  from  it  no  less  a  sum  than  eighty  thousand 
pounds.  It  is  alleged  to  have  been  written  in  daily 
entries,  and  to  supply  an  exact  report  of  Napoleon's 
conversation.  Much,  however,  is  declared  by  the 
author  to  have  been  lost,  partly  from  want  of  time 
for  transcription ;  something,  perhaps,  from  the  vicis- 
situdes of  his  papers.  What  he  narrates  is  told  with 
spirit,  and  even  eloquence,  and  when  corroborated  by 
other  authority  may  be  taken  to  be  a  faithful  tran- 
script of  the  Emperor's  talk  as  he  wished  it  to  be  re- 
ported, or  at  any  rate  of  his  dictations.  But,  when 
uncorroborated,  it  is  wholly  unreliable.  For,  put- 
ting on  one  side  the  usual  exaggerations  about  diet, 
restrictions,  and  so  forth,  and  making  full  allowance 
for  the  author's  being  too  dazzled  by  Napoleon  (whom 
he  sincerely  adored)  to  see  quite  clearly,  there  is  a  fatal 
blot  on  his  book.     It  is  an  arsenal  of  spurious  docu- 

9 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

ments.  How  this  has  come  about,  whether  from  the 
fertile  invention  of  Las  Cases,  or  by  the  connivance 
and  inspiration  of  Napoleon,  it  is  not  possible  defi- 
nitely to  pronounce.  At  any  rate,  four  such  fabri- 
cated letters  are  printed  at  length  in  Las  Cases's  book, 
and  he  must  be  held  responsible  for  a  fifth,  which  is 
nowhere  printed,  and  which  probably  had  but  a  tran- 
sient existence. 

The  fabrication  of  the  first  of  these  has  been  clearly 
and  categorically  set  forth  by  Count  Murat  in  his 
excellent  book,  Murat,  Lieutenant  de  VEmpereur 
en  Espagne.  The  charge  is  there  established  that 
Las  Cases,  in  order  to  lay  the  blame  of  his  hero's 
Spanish  policy  on  Murat,  inserted  in  his  book  a  fabri- 
cated letter  of  the  date  of  March  29, 1808.  By  whom 
the  letter  was  composed  does  not  appear.  But  that 
it  is  a  fabrication  is  certain,  and  the  responsibility 
for  its  production  rests  on  Las  Cases.  Count  Murat 
accumulates  damning  proofs.  He  points  out  the 
irresolution  of  the  despatch,  and  the  orders  that  the 
French  armies  should  perpetually  retreat  before  the 
Spaniards,  as  wholly  alien  to  the  Napoleonic  char- 
acter. He  points  out  the  incessant  inconsistencies 
wdth  passages  of  authentic  despatches  written  at  the 
same  time.  On  the  27th  of  March  Napoleon  had 
written  to  Murat  to  bid  him  make  an  imposing  dis- 
play of  force  in  Madrid.  In  the  spurious  despatch, 
dated  the  29th,  he  disapproves  of  his  being  in  Madrid 
at  all.  It  is  known,  moreover,  that  the  news  of  Mu- 
rat's  occupation  of  Madrid  did  not  reach  the  Emperor 
till  the  30th.  The  despatch  is  not  in  the  form  with 
which  Napoleon  addressed  Murat.  The  drafts,  or 
minutes,  of  practically  all  Napoleon's  despatches 
are  in  existence.    There  is  no  minute  of  this.     Na- 

10 


LAS    CASES,   ANTOMMARCHI,    ETC. 

poleon,  in  his  other  despatches,  never  alludes  to  this 
one.  Murat  never  acknowledges  its  receipt.  Mu- 
rat's  minute  register  of  letters  received  and  sent  con- 
tains no  allusion  to  it.  How,  in  any  case,  did  it 
suddenly  make  its  appearance  at  St.  Helena?  It 
seems  useless  to  accumulate  proofs  that  a  more  au- 
dacious fabrication  has  seldom  been  presented  to  the 
public.  The  editors  of  the  imperial  correspondence, 
indeed,  blush  as  they  print  it,  for  they  append  a  note 
stating  that  neither  the  draft,  nor  the  original,  nor 
any  authentic  copy,  is  discoverable.  Savary,  Beaus- 
set,  and  Thibaudeau  blindly  accept  the  letter  on  the 
authority  of  Las  Cases.  M6neval,  who  was  at  the 
time  Napoleon's  private  secretary,  anticipates  the 
doubts  of  Count  Murat,  and  details  some  material 
circumstances  which  vitiate  the  letter,  one  of  them 
being  that,  though  the  letter  is  dated  from  Paris,  Na- 
poleon at  that  time  was  at  St.  Cloud.  Meneval  says 
that  he  cannot  solve  the  mystery,  though  his  argu- 
ments all  point  irresistibly  to  fabrication;  his  only 
argument  the  other  way — a  very  dangerous  one — 
is  that  no  one  but  Napoleon  could  have  composed 
it.  The  perplexity  of  Meneval,  when  his  confiden- 
tial position  is  considered,  is  extremely  significant, 
if  not  conclusive.  Thiers  thinks  that  Napoleon 
wrote  it,  and  wrote  it  on  the  professed  date,  but  ad- 
mits that  the  letter  was  never  sent.  His  reasons 
for  this  strange  theory  cannot  be  examined  here,  but 
they  appear  to  be  the  mere  result  of  a  desperate  ef- 
fort to  prove  the  authenticity  of  the  letter,  in  spite 
of  overwhelming  difficulties  stated  by  himself.  Mon- 
tholon  prints  it  among  a  number  of  other  letters  which 
he  says  were  handed  to  him  by  the  Emperor.  This 
casts  doubt  on  the  narrative  of  Montholon  as  well, 

II 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

But  the  primary  and  original  responsibility  must 
rest  with  Las  Cases.  And  it  is  a  little  unfortunate 
that  Las  Cases  piqued  himself  on  his  skill  in  com- 
position. He  tells  us  that  he  drew  up  Napoleon's 
protest  at  Plymouth.  He  drew  up  innumerable 
protests  of  his  own.  "Once  a  correspondence  es- 
tablished with  Sir  H.  Lowe/'  he  says,  with  ominous 
pleasantry,  "I  did  not  remain  idle."  He  rained 
documents  on  the  governor.  Deported  to  the  Cape, 
he  never  stopped  writing :  the  governor  of  that  set- 
tlement, the  ministers,  the  Prince  Regent — all  had 
to  endure  him.  Returning  to  Europe,  he  bombards 
every  sovereign  or  minister  that  he  can  think  of. 
Last  of  all,  the  patient  reader  who  ploughs  through 
his  eight  volumes  has  ample  reason  to  feel  that  Las 
Cases  would  like  nothing  better  than  to  pen  a  few 
Napoleonic  despatches  to  keep  himself  in  exercise. 
We  should  not,  on  this  instance  alone,  definitely  pro- 
nounce that  Las  Cases  deliberately  fabricated  the 
letter  to  Murat;  for  it  might  have  been  an  academi- 
cal exercise,  or  there  might  have  been  confusion 
among  his  papers,  or  lapse  of  memory.  There  are 
strange  freaks  of  this  kind  on  record. 

But,  unfortunately,  this  is  by  no  means  the  only 
effort  or  lapse  of  Las  Cases  in  this  direction.  In  the 
fifth  part  of  his  journal  he  gives  in  much  the  same 
way  a  letter  from  Napoleon  to  Bernadotte,  dated 
August  8,  1811.  It  is  entirely  ignored  by  the  editors 
of  the  imperial  correspondence.  It  is,  however,  in- 
serted in  the  Lettres  incites  de  Napoleon  I.,  but 
"with  every  reserve,"  for  the  editors  do  not  know  its 
source.  Had  they  known  it,  they  would  no  doubt 
have  rejected  it,  as  had  the  former  editors.  They 
take  it  at  second  hand  from  Martel's  CEuvres  Litt^^ 


LAS    CASES,   ANTOMMARCHI,    ETC. 

raires  de  NapoUon  Bonaparte.  Martel,  who  does  not 
name  his  authority,  evidently  took  it  from  Las  Cases. 

Again,  in  his  sixth  volume.  Las  Cases  generously 
produces  from  his  occult  and  unfailing  store  another 
state  document.  This  time  it  is  a  letter  addressed 
by  Napoleon  to  his  brother,  Louis,  King  of  Holland, 
on  April  3, 1808,  from  the  palace  of  Marrac.  It  bears 
all  the  mint  marks  of  the  others.  It  is  found  for  the 
first  time  in  Las  Cases's  book.  No  draft  of  it  is  in 
existence,  a  fact  which  is  in  itself  fatal.  Unluckily, 
too.  Napoleon  did  not  arrive  at  Marrac  till  fourteen 
days  after  April  3.  The  editors  of  the  Emperor's 
correspondence  print  it  with  this  dry  remark,  and  wiih 
an  ominous  reference  to  Las  Cases  as  the  sole  au- 
thority. M.  Rocquain,  in  his  NapoUon  et  le  Roi 
Louis  (p.  166,  note),  unhesitatingly  dismisses  it  as 
in  the  main,  if  not  wholly,  a  fraud.  We  see  no  rea- 
son for  accepting  any  part  as  genuine,  nor,  indeed, 
does  M.  Rocquain  supply  any. 

In  his  seventh  volume,  again,  there  is  a  fourth  let- 
ter, of  the  authorship  of  which  it  may  confidently  be 
said,  Aut  Las  Cases,  aut  Diaboltis.  It  purports  to 
be  instructions  for  an  anonymous  plenipotentiary  on 
a  mission  in  Poland,  and  it  is  dated  April  18,  1812. 
This  composition  is  absolutely  ignored  by  the  official 
editors  of  the  imperial  correspondence.  It  is,  as  usual, 
suddenly  produced  by  Las  Cases  as  a  revelation  of 
the  real  motives  of  the  Russian  expedition.  The 
real  motive  of  that  disastrous  war,  it  seems,  was  the 
reconstruction  of  the  ancient  kingdom  of  Poland. 
When  we  consider  that  at  that  juncture,  when  the 
revival  was  passionately  sought  by  the  Poles,  eagerly 
desired  by  his  own  army,  and  by  some  of  his  most 
devoted  servants,  when  it  was  vital  to  his  strategy 

13 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

and  to  his  policy,  when  it  was  clearly  dictated  by  the 
commonest  gratitude  and  humanity  towards  Poland, 
Napoleon  resolutely  refused  it,  we  may  judge  of  the 
value  and  authenticity  of  this  document. 

The  fifth  fabrication,  which  we  are  not  privileged 
even  to  see,  is  the  most  remarkable,  and  the  most  im- 
pudent, of  all.  In  a  moment  of  disinterested  friend- 
ship Las  Cases  drew  from  his  manuscript  hoards,  to 
show  to  Warden,  a  letter  from  the  Due  d'Enghien  to 
Napoleon  which  was  written  on  the  eve  of  his  exe- 
cution, and  which  was  suppressed  by  Talleyrand  for 
fear  Napoleon  should  be  moved  by  it  to  spare  him. 
Las  Cases  appears  to  have  had  a  monopoly  of  this 
document,  for  no  one  except  himself  and  those  to 
whom  he  showed  it  ever  had  the  singular  good  for- 
tune to  see  or  even  to  hear  of  it.  His  own  statement 
with  regard  to  the  Enghien  affair  is,  perhaps,  the  most 
nebulous  in  his  whole  book,  and  he  only  makes  a 
timid  and  transient  allusion  to  the  letter  which  he 
had  shown  so  exultantly  to  Warden.  Warden's  lan- 
guage is  so  remarkable  that  it  deserves  quotation: 
"  I  saw  a  copy  of  this  letter  in  possession  of  Count  de 
Las  Cases,  which  he  calmly  represented  to  me  as  one 
of  the  mass  of  documents  formed  or  collected  to  authen- 
ticate and  justify  certain  mysterious  parts  of  the  his- 
tory which  he  was  occasionally  employed  in  writing 
under  the  dictation  of  the  hero  of  it."  Let  us  follow 
up  for  a  moment  the  subsequent  history  of  the  letter 
of  the  Due  d'Enghien  intercepted  by  Talleyrand  and 
providentially  preserved  by  Las  Cases.  In  the  Let- 
ters from  the  Cape,  composed,  inspired,  or  revised  by 
Napoleon,  this  letter  is  mentioned,  for  the  author  had 
"frequent  opportunities  of  cursorily  running  over 
manuscripts  of  the  greatest  interest  relative  to  the 

14 


LAS   CASES,    ANTOMMARCHI,    ETC. 

memorable  events  of  the  last  twenty  years,  a  part 
of  which  was  even  written  from  the  dictation  of  Na- 
poleon himself";  in  other  words.  Napoleon,  who  is 
the  author  of  the  Letters,  has  access  to  manuscripts 
dictated  by  himself.  "When  the  Due  d'Enghien 
had  arrived  at  Strasburg,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Na- 
poleon, in  which  he  stated  'that  his  rights  to  the 
crown  were  very  distant;  that  for  a  length  of  time 
his  family  had  lost  their  claims :  and  promised,  if 
pardon  was  granted  to  him,  to  discover  everything 
he  knew  of  the  plot  of  enemies  of  France,  and  to  serve 
the  First  Consul  faithfully. '  This  letter  was  not  pre- 
sented by  TallejTand  to  Napoleon  until  it  was  too 
late.  The  young  prince  was  no  more."  The  au- 
thor goes  on  to  say  that  in  the  manuscript,  which  he 
had  been  privileged  to  see.  Napoleon  states  that "  per- 
haps, if  this  letter  had  been  presented  in  time,  the 
political  advantages  which  would  have  accrued  from 
his  declarations  and  his  services  would  have  de- 
cided the  First  Consul  to  pardon  him."  This  ex- 
tract is  interesting  as  containing  the  only  portion  of 
the  text  of  this  remarkable  document  which  has  been 
preserved.  Rumors  of  this  precious  letter  appear  to 
have  been  cautiously  spread  about  Longwood,  and 
to  have  excited  the  curiosity  of  that  portion  of  the 
household  which  had  not  been  admitted  to  the  con- 
fidence of  Las  Cases.  O'Meara  appears  especially  to 
have  distinguished  himself  by  a  pertinacious  spirit 
of  investigation.  In  January,  1817,  he  represents 
himself  as  asking  the  Emperor  questions  with  regard 
to  it.  "  I  now  asked  if  it  were  true  that  Talleyrand 
had  retained  a  letter  from  the  Due  d'Enghien  to  him 
until  two  days  after  the  Duke's  execution?  Napo- 
leon's reply  was :  '  It  is  true ;  the  Duke  had  written  a 

15 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

letter,  offering  his  services,  and  asking  a  command 
in  the  army  from  me,  which  that  scelerato  Talleyrand 
did  not  make  known  until  two  days  after  his  execu- 
tion/ I  observed  that  Talleyrand,  by  his  culpable 
concealment  of  the  letter,  was  virtually  guilty  of  the 
death  of  the  Duke.  'Talleyrand,'  replied  Napoleon, 
*  is  a  briccone,  capable  of  any  crime/  " 

Two  months  later,  in  March,  O'Meara  mentions  to 
Napoleon  that  a  book  has  been  published  respecting 
him,  by  Warden,  which  was  exciting  great  interest. 
The  book  had  not  then  arrived,  but  there  were  ex- 
tracts from  it  in  the  newspapers.  Napoleon  sits  down 
to  read  the  newspapers,  asks  the  explanation  of  a 
few  passages,  and  at  once  inquires  what  Warden  had 
said  of  the  affair  of  the  Due  d'Enghien.  "  I  replied 
that  he  asserted  that  Talle3Tand  had  detained  a 
letter  from  the  Duke  for  a  considerable  time  after 
his  execution,  and  that  he  attributed  his  death  to 
Talleyrand.  'Di  questo  non  c'd  diibhio '  (of  this  there 
is  no  doubt),  replied  Napoleon."  Later  in  the  month 
Napoleon  reiterates  this  statement  to  O'Meara. 
"When  he  (the  Due  d'Enghien)  arrived  at  Stras- 
burg,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  me  in  which  he  offered 
to  discover  everything  if  pardon  were  granted  to 
him,  said  that  his  family  had  lost  their  claims 
for  a  long  time,  and  concluded  by  offering  his  ser- 
vices to  me.  The  letter  was  delivered  to  Talleyrand, 
who  concealed  it  until  after  his  execution."  This 
seems  succinct  enough,  but  O'Meara  wished  to  make 
assurance  doubly  sure.  So  in  April  he  "asked  Na- 
poleon again,  as  I  was  anxious  to  put  the  matter  be- 
yond a  doubt,  whether,  if  Talleyrand  had  delivered 
the  Due  d'Enghien's  letter  in  time  to  him,  he  would 
have  pardoned  the  WTiter.     He  replied,  'It  is  prob- 

i6 


LAS   CASES,    ANTOMMARCHI,    ETC. 

able  that  I  might,  for  in  it  he  made  an  offer  of  his 
services;  besides,  he  was  the  best  of  the  family.'  " 
It  is  noteworthy  that,  although  Napoleon  speaks  more 
than  once  to  Gourgaud  about  the  Enghien  affair,  he 
never  mentions  the  letter  to  that  critical  and  incredu- 
lous oJSicer.  Finally,  the  whole  bubble,  blown  as- 
siduously by  Warden,  O'Meara,  and  the  Inters 
front  the  Cape,  ignominiously  bursts.  The  letter 
disappears,  and  with  it  the  charge  against  Talley- 
rand. The  narrative  is  brought  back  to  historical 
truth  by  placing  on  record  the  well-known  note  of 
the  Due  d'Enghien  written  on  the  report  of  his  trial. 
Montholon  has  to  engineer  this  remarkable  meta- 
morphosis. It  is,  of  course,  impossible  to  perform 
this  task  with  success,  but  the  hapless  equerry  ex- 
tracts himself  from  it  with  something  less  than  grace 
or  probability.  He  tells  us  that  after  O'Meara's  de- 
parture the  surgeon's  journal  was  left  with  him,  and 
that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  reading  it  aloud  to  his 
master.  The  Emperor,  he  says,  pointed  out  some 
errors  in  the  manuscript.  And  it  seems  a  pity  that 
Montholon  does  not  place  on  record  what  these  er- 
rors were,  for  the  only  statement  which  is  corrected 
is  that  thrice  solemnly  made  by  O'Meara  on  the  au- 
thority of  Napoleon  himself.  We  must  quote  text- 
ually  what  is  said  about  it:  "M.  O'Meara  dit  que 
M.  de  Talleyrand  intercepta  une  lettre  6crite  par  le 
Due  d'Enghien  quelques  heures  avant  le  jugement. 
La  verity  est  que  le  Due  d'Enghien  a  6cni  sur  le  pro- 
ems verbal  d'interrogatoire,  avant  de  signer :  '  Je  fais 
avec  instance  la  demande  d 'avoir  une  audience  par- 
ticuli^re  du  premier  consul.  Mon  nom,  mon  rang, 
ma  fagon  de  penser  et  I'horreur  de  ma  situation,  me 
font  esp6rer  qu'il  ne  refusera  pas  ma  demande.'" 
B  17  , 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

This,  of  course,  is  what  the  Due  d'Enghien  did  actu- 
ally write.  Then  Montholon  proceeds,  "Malheure- 
usement  TEmpereur  n'eut  connaissance  de  ce  fait 
qu'apres  Texecution  du  jugement.  L' intervention 
de  M.  de  Talleyrand  dans  ce  drame  sanglant  est  d^ja 
assez  grande  sans  qu'on  lui  prMe  un  tort  qu'il  n'a 
pas  eu." 

We  regret  to  declare  that  we  do  not  consider  this 
contradiction  as  any  more  authentic  than  the  letter 
from  the  Due  d'Enghien,  written  at  Strasburg,  of- 
fering his  services,  and  asking  for  a  command  of  the 
army,  which  Talleyrand  intercepted  for  fear  it  should 
melt  Napoleon's  heart.  The  fact  and  purport  of  that 
letter  are  clearly  set  forth  by  Warden,  who  saw  the 
letter;  by  Las  Cases,  who  showed  it  to  him;  by 
O'Meara,  who  twice  asked  Napoleon  about  it;  by 
Napoleon  himself,  in  the  Letters  from  the  Cape; 
and  the  main  point  of  the  story  is  not  the  appeal  of 
the  Duke,  but  the  infamy  of  Talleyrand,  who  sup- 
pressed it.  Warden  published  the  first  statement 
in  i8i6;  the  Cape  Letters  appeared  in  1817; 
O'Meara  in  1822;  Las  Cases  in  1824.  At  last,  in 
1847,  thirty  years  after  the  statement  was  first  pub- 
lished, appears  Montholon's  book.  By  this  time 
the  whole  story  has  been  hopelessly  exploded.  A 
host  of  elucidatory  pamphlets  have  been  published. 
What  has  not  been  published  is  the  document  itself, 
which,  so  assiduously  advertised,  has  never  seen 
the  light.  So  Montholon  has  to  make  the  best  of  a 
bad  job,  and  get  rid  somehow  of  this  abortive  fiction. 
As  we  have  said,  he  conjures  up  an  episode  in  which 
he  reads  O'Meara's  composition  to  the  Emperor, 
when  the  Emperor  corrects  several  errors.  Montho- 
lon, however,  only  records  one  correction,  which  is 

18 


LAS   CASES,    ANTOMMARCHI,    ETC. 

not  a  correction  at  all,  but  an  absolute  denial  of  the 
whole  story,  and  an  explicit  acquittal  of  Talle5Tand. 
The  statements  in  Warden's  book,  which  form  the 
text  of  Napoleon's  remarks  to  O'Meara  in  March, 
1817,  and  the  categorical  assertion  in  the  Letters 
from  the  Cape,  which  were  composed  by  Napoleon 
himself,  Montholon  does  not,  and  cannot,  touch.  It 
is  no  doubt  true  that  Napoleon  did  not  see  the  last 
words  which  Enghien  wrote  before  his  execution 
took  place.  But  these  were  not  a  letter  written  from 
Strasburg,  nor  were  they  an  application  for  a  post  in 
the  French  army,  nor  were  they  intercepted  by  Tal- 
leyrand. It  is  noteworthy  that,  so  far  from  the  Due 
d'Enghien  soliciting  employment  under  Napoleon, 
we  know  from  Savary  that  the  Duke's  fatal  admis- 
sion at  his  trial  was  that  he  had  asked  to  serve  in 
the  British  army.  We  admire  Montholon 's  loyal 
vSpirit,  but  we  think  he  might  have  effected  the  re- 
treat from  an  impossible  position  with  something 
more  of  skill,  and  veiled  it  with  more  probability. 

As  to  Talleyrand,  his  share  in  the  Enghien  affair, 
though  no  doubt  obscure,  is  certainly  not  open  to  this 
particular  charge.  Strangely  enough,  and  most 
unfortunately  for  Las  Cases,  Napoleon  in  his  own 
hand  left  an  express  acquittal  of  Talleyrand.  M6- 
neval  transcribes  from  the  autograph  notes  of  Na- 
poleon on  the  history  of  Fleury  de  Chaboulon  the 
following  lines:  "Prince  TallejTand  behaved  on 
this  occasion  as  a  faithful  minister,  and  the  Emperor 
has  never  had  any  reproach  to  make  to  him  with  re- 
gard to  it."  Talleyrand's  complicity  or  connivance 
does  not  fall  to  be  discussed  here;  that  is  a  very  dif- 
ferent matter.  But  this  note  expressly  contradicts 
the  charge  of  perfidy  which  we  are  discussing,  and 

19 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

which  is  the  essence  of  the  charge  preferred  by  Las 
Cases. 

Finally,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  on  his  death-bed  the 
Emperor,  provoked  by  an  attack  in  an  English  re- 
view on  Savary  and  Caulaincourt  in  connection  with 
this  incident,  calls  for  his  will,  and  inserts  in  it  the 
following  sentence:  "I  had  the  Due  d'Enghien  ar- 
rested and  tried  because  it  was  necessary  for  the 
safety,  interest,  and  honor  of  the  French  people, 
when  the  Comte  d'Artois  was,  avowedly,  maintain- 
ing sixty  assassins  in  Paris.  Under  the  same  cir- 
cumstances, I  should  do  the  same  again."  This  we 
believe  to  be  the  truth,  though  not  perhaps  the  whole 
truth. 

We  have,  then,  we  confess,  a  profound  distrust  of 
this  mass  of  illustrative  documents  collected  by  Las 
Cases.  We  cannot,  indeed,  call  to  mind  a  single 
letter  (except  the  various  protests)  which  is  given 
by  Las  Cases,  and  which  is  genuine,  except  the  fare- 
well letter  of  Napoleon  to  Las  Cases  himself.  Strange- 
ly enough,  such  is  the  fatality  attaching  to  letters 
in  this  collection,  Gourgaud  gives  a  totally  different 
version  even  of  this  one ;  yet  Gourgaud  read  it  under 
circumstances  that  would  have  stamped  it  on  his 
memory.  In  this  case,  however,  the  version  of  Las 
Cases  is  supported  by  Lowe,  and  is  no  doubt  the  true 
one. 

Whence  came  all  these  documents?  When  and 
where  was  "the  mass  of  documents  formed  or  col- 
lected to  justify  certain  mysterious  parts  of  the  his- 
tory" of  the  Emperor's  reign?  Are  we  to  under- 
stand that  Napoleon  hurriedly  culled  them  at  the 
Elys^e  or  Malmaison  after  Waterloo — a  letter  to 
Louis,  a  letter  to  Murat,  a  letter  to  Bernadotte — from 

20 


LAS   CASES,    ANTOMMARCHI,    ETC. 

his  enormous  correspondence?  We  know  that  the 
letters  which  he  considered  at  that  time  of  most  im- 
portance he  confided  to  his  brother  Joseph:  they 
were  bound  in  volumes.  How,  then,  did  he  come 
to  have  these  sparse,  but  notable,  despatches  about 
him?  Las  Cases  could  onl}^  if  they  were  genuine, 
have  obtained  them  from  Napoleon,  and  Las  Cases 
was  not  in  the  confidence  of  Napoleon  till  long  after 
the  Emperor  was  cut  off  from  his  papers.  Whence, 
then,  come  these  casket  letters?  Las  Cases  could 
tell  us,  but  does  not :  and  no  one  else  can.  The  only 
hint  we  obtain  is  from  Gourgaud,  who,  speaking  of 
some  false  statement  of  Warden's,  says  that  it  is 
probably  une  partie  du  journal  faux  de  Las  Cases, 
from  which  we  may  conclude  that  Las  Cases  kept  a 
spurious  record  for  the  information  of  curious  stran- 
gers and  the  public,  and  that  this  was  known  at 
Longwood.  J 

And  here  we  must  say,  with  deep  regret,  that  we 
wish  we  could  feel  certain  that  Napoleon  was  igno- 
rant of  these  fabrications.  There  would  be  perhaps, 
if  we  could  shut  our  eyes  to  the  evidence  of  the  au- 
thorship of  the  Letters  from  the  Cape,  or  if  we  chose 
to  take  that  pamphlet  as  a  sort  of  trial-balloon  sent 
forth  by  the  Emperor,  but  not  intended  to  carry  his 
authority,  no  absolutely  direct  or  reliable  evidence  of 
connection.  Unfortunately,  there  is  no  doubt  as  to 
the  authorship  of  the  Letters  from  the  Cape.  Mon- 
tholon,  moreover,  gives  the  spurious  letters  to  Murat 
in  the  midst  of  a  narrative  of  Spanish  affairs  dictated 
by  Napoleon.  Napoleon  is  recorded  as  saying :  "  On 
the  29th  of  May  I  wrote  to  the  Grand  Duke  of  Berg," 
as  follows.  And  then  follows  the  spurious  letter. 
If,  then,  we  can  implicitly  trust  Montholon,  Napoleon 

21 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

declared  the  letter  to  be  genuine.  But  we  do  not 
implicitly  trust  Montholon.  We  have,  however,  de- 
scribed the  relations  of  Napoleon,  as  set  forth  by  the 
chroniclers,  to  the  imaginary  Enghien  letter.  We 
can  hardly,  then,  acquit  Napoleon  of  having  been 
cognizant  of  these  documents.  Las  Cases,  in  his 
journal,  constantly  treats  us  to  comet  showers  of  as- 
terisks, which  he  assures  us  represent  conversations 
with  Napoleon  of  the  utmost  moment  and  mystery. 
Possibly  mystifications  may  have  been  concocted  at 
these  dark  interviews,  and  if  Las  Cases  kept  any  rec- 
ord of  what  then  passed,  it  would  be  well  to  publish  it. 
Nor  is  it  easy  to  understand  that  the  idolater  would 
venture  to  take  such  liberties  without  at  least  a  sign 
from  the  idol.  It  must,  moreover,  be  mentioned  that 
an  officer  on  board  the  Northumberland  records  that 
Napoleon  was  heard,  in  dictation  to  Las  Cases,  saying 
that  he  had  received  proofs  of  Enghien's  innocence, 
and  an  application  from  Enghien  for  employment, 
after  the  Duke's  execution.  Thiers,  again,  following 
the  less  emphatic  opinion  of  Meneval,  positively  de- 
clares that  there  can  be  no  doubt,  from  the  evidence 
of  the  style,  that  the  letter  to  Murat  was  composed  by 
the  Emperor.  This  is  a  damning  admission,  if  the 
authority  of  Thiers  be  accepted,  for  no  one  can  now 
believe  that  that  letter  was  written  on  the  alleged  date. 
On  the  other  hand,  Thiers  is  by  no  means  infallible. 
Moreover,  is  it  possible,  to  put  things  on  the  lowest 
ground,  that  Napoleon  would  associate  himself  with 
tricks  so  certain  of  discovery?  Unless,  indeed,  what 
is  not  impossible,  he  allowed  them  to  be  launched, 
careless  of  the  future,  or  of  the  verdict  of  history,  in 
order  to  produce  a  momentary  impression  in  his  favor ; 
just  as  he  is  said  in  the  days  of  his  power  to  have 

22 


LAS    CASES,    ANTOMMARCHI,    ETC. 

published  in  the  Moniteur  fictitious  despatches  from 
his  marshals. 

We  offer  no  judgment:  we  care  to  go  no  further: 
our  object  is  not  to  follow  up  the  track  further  than 
to  demonstrate  the  unreliability  of  Las  Cases.  And 
we  think  we  have  said  enough  to  show  that  these  va- 
rious fabrications  lie  like  a  bar  sinister  athwart  the 
veracity  of  his  massive  volumes,  and  make  it  impos- 
sible to  accept  any  of  his  statements,  when  he  has  any 
object  in  making  them. 

This  being  so,  it  is  not  necessary  to  point  out 
minor  and  less  elaborate  inaccuracies.  Pasquier, 
for  example,  complains  that  Las  Cases  gives  a  wholly 
imaginary  account  of  the  interview  which  Pasquier 
had  with  Napoleon  on  becoming  prefect  of  police. 
But  the  responsibility  for  this  misstatement  does  not, 
probably,  lie  with  Las  Cases.  He  also  signalizes 
two  other  misrepresentations  of  the  same  kind,  but 
it  is  scarcely  worth  while  to  multiply  instances. 

We  have,  however,  a  further,  though  very  minor, 
objection  to  this  author,  in  that  he  is  a  book-maker 
of  an  aggravated  description.  No  sort  of  padding 
comes  amiss  to  him.  Nevertheless,  the  book  is  not 
without  interest,  and  even  value ;  for  there  are  many 
cases  in  which  he  has  no  interest  to  serve,  and  where 
he  records  at  length  habits  and  remarks  of  Napoleon 
which  we  find  nowhere  else,  the  genuineness  of  which 
must  be  decided  by  internal  evidence  or  probability. 
Las  Cases,  too,  is  by  far  the  most  Boswellian  of  the 
biographers,  the  most  minute,  the  most  insensible  to 
ridicule,  and  in  that  respect  affords  some  amusement. 
Some,  indeed,  of  his  sublimer  flights  hover  perilously 
near  the  other  extreme;  as,  for  example,  when  he 
feels  an  indescribable  emotion  on  seeing  Nai^leon 

23 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

rub  his  stomach.  The  Emperor  has  some  coffee  for 
breakfast,  which  he  enjoys.  "Quelques  moments 
plus  tard  il  disait,  en  se  frottant  Testomac  de  la  main, 
qu'il  en  sentait  le  bien  1^.  II  serait  difficile  de  rendre 
mes  sentiments  k  ces  simples  paroles." 

Again,  Napoleon  tells  him  that  when  speaking  to 
Lowe  he  became  so  angry  that  he  felt  a  vibration  in 
the  calf  of  his  left  leg,  which  is  one  of  his  portentous 
symptoms,  and  one  which  he  had  not  felt  for  years. 

Again,  Las  Cases  records,  in  the  true  Boswellian 
strain,  that  Napoleon  had  called  him  a  simpleton, 
consoling  him  with  the  assurance  that  he  always 
meant  the  epithet  as  a  certificate  of  honesty. 

Again,  Las  Cases  speaks  with  rapture  of  the  ab- 
sence of  all  personal  feeling  in  Napoleon.  "  He  sees 
things  so  completely  in  the  mass,  and  from  so  great 
a  height,  that  men  escape  him.  Never  has  one  sur- 
prised him  in  any  irritation  against  any  of  those  of 
whom  he  has  had  most  to  complain."  Were  it  pos- 
sible on  other  grounds  to  give  complete  credit  to  the 
narrative  of  Las  Cases,  this  stupendous  assertion 
would  make  us  pause. 

The  memoirs  of  Montholon  are,  like  the  author, 
eminently  suave  and  gentlemanlike.  •  O'Meara  ac- 
cuses him,  in  private  letters  to  the  English  staff, 
of  being  untruthful,  and  O'Meara  should  be  a  good 
judge.  We  do  not  doubt  that  where  they  bear  upon 
the  general  strategy  of  Longwood  they  are  unreliable, 
like  all  the  publications  within  thirty  years  of  Na- 
poleon's death,  though  it  should  be  remembered  that 
they  appeared  late,  not  till  1847.  Nor  are  the  dates 
given  always  exact;  and  this  inaccuracy  gives  the 
impression  that  the  entries  may  have  been  written 
up  some  time  afterwards.     It  is  sufficiently  obvious, 

24 


LAS    CASES.    ANTOMMARCHI,    ETC. 

indeed,  that  portions  of  the  book  are  insertions  long 
subsequent  to  the  exile.  But,  on  questions  where 
the  credit  of  Napoleon  or  his  ill-treatment  is  not  in- 
volved, they  may  be  read  with  interest.  Nor  can  we 
avoid  commending  the  tone,  which  is  due,  no  doubt, 
to  the  date  of  publication.  A  quarter  of  a  century 
had  cooled  many  passions  and  allayed  many  feuds. 
Gourgaud  had  ceased  to  rage,  and  had  amicably  co- 
operated with  Montholon  in  the  production  of  the 
Emperor's  memoirs.  Hence,  Montholon  has  not  a 
word  against  Gourgaud,  or  even  reflecting  on  Gour- 
gaud, at  a  time  when  that  fretful  porcupine  must 
have  been  making  his  life  almost  intolerable.  In- 
deed, at  the  time  of  Gourgaud's  challenge,  there  is 
simply  a  blank  of  ten  days.  Whether  this  judicious 
reticence  is  due  to  anguish  of  mind,  or  whether,  what 
is  not  impossible,  the  whole  transaction  was  what 
our  ancestors  would  have  called  a  flam,  or  whether, 
on  consideration,  the  entries  were  cancelled,  it  is 
impossible  now  to  say.  We  incline  to  the  last  hy- 
pothesis, and  regret,  now  that  Gourgaud's  journal  is 
published,  that  Montholon's  cannot,  as  a  counter- 
blast, be  given  in  its  entirety.  We  know  that  he 
left  in  manuscript  a  great  mass  of  notes  of  conversa- 
tion. One  at  least  of  these,  the  record  of  a  mono- 
logue of  Napoleon's  on  March  lo,  1819,  has  been 
published,  and  exceeds  in  interest  anything  in  Mon- 
tholon's book.  It  is  greatly  to  be  desired  that  these 
notes  should  be  unreservedly  given  to  the  world 
Were  this  done,  we  might  have  a  record  not  inferior 
in  interest  to  that  of  Gourgaud.  What  we  chiefly 
regret  about  the  book  as  it  stands  are  the  obvious 
suppressions,  due,  no  doubt,  to  blind  veneration  for 
Napoleon's  memory,  and  to  solicitude  for  the  politi- 
cs 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

cal  interests  of  Napoleon's  nephew.  It  languishes, 
moreover,  just  when  it  would  have  been  most  fruit- 
ful— that  is,  after  the  departure  of  the  other  chroni- 
clers, Las  Cases,  O'Meara,  and  Gourgaud,  when  we 
have  nothing  else  to  depend  upon,  except  the  imag- 
inative excursions  of  Antommarchi. 

For,  in  the  last  days  of  all,  we  are  left  mainly  to 
Antommarchi,  and  no  one  of  the  chroniclers  is  less  . 
reliable.  He  was  a  young  Corsican  anatomist  of 
some  distinction,  and  arrived  in  St.  Helena  eighteen 
months  before  Napoleon's  death.  As  a  Corsican, 
selected  by  Cardinal  Fesch,  he  should  have  been 
agreeable  to  the  Emperor.  But  he  was  unlucky,  for 
on  several  occasions  he  was  absent  when  Napoleon 
wanted  his  aid.  Moreover,  his  illustrious  patient, 
who  in  any  case  did  not  love  physicians,  thought  him 
too  young  and  inexperienced.  And,  according  to 
Montholon,  Antommarchi  treated  the  illness  of  Na- 
poleon as  trifling,  and  even  feigned.  Yet  Montholon 
speaks  well  of  him,  as  "an  excellent  young  man," 
and  has  no  conceivable  object  for  misrepresenting 
him.  When,  in  March,  1821,  Napoleon  complains  of 
feeling  internal  stabs,  as  of  a  pen-knife,  caused  by 
the  hideous  disease  which  had  then  almost  killed 
him,  Antommarchi  laughs.  Nothing,  says  Montho- 
lon, will  make  him  believe,  within  seven  weeks  of  the 
end,  in  the  gravity,  or  even  in  the  reality,  of  Napo- 
leon's condition.  He  is  persuaded  that  the  illness  is 
only  a  political  game,  played  with  the  intention  of 
persuading  the  English  government  to  bring  the  Em- 
peror back  to  Europe.  He  declares,  with  a  smile  of 
incredulity,  on  March  20th,  that  Napoleon's  pulse  is 
normal. """  On  March  21st,  however,  he  recognizes  the 
seriousness  of  the  situation,  and  declares  that  he  sees 


LAS    CASES,    ANTOMMARCHI,    ETC. 

undeniable  signs  of  gastritis.  Napoleon  thereupon 
consents,  with  great  reluctance,  to  take  some  lemon- 
ade with  an  emetic.  Next  day,  therefore,  a  quarter 
of  a  grain  of  tartar  emetic  was  administered  in  some 
lemonade.  The  patient  was  violently  sick,  and  rolled 
on  the  earth  in  agony.  What  the  agony  must  have 
been,  when  we  remember  the  ulcers  which  were  in- 
ternally devouring  him,  we  can  scarcely  conceive. 
Antommarchi  says  that  the  effect  is  too  strong,  but 
that  it  is  a  necessary  remedy.  Napoleon,  however, 
absolutely  refuses  any  further  medicine  of  the  kind. 
Next  day  he  ordered  his  servant  to  bring  him  a  glass 
of  lemonade;  but  the  young  doctor  was  on  the  watch, 
and  craftily  inserted  the  same  dose  of  his  favorite 
remedy.  Napoleon  smelt  something  strange,  and 
gave  it  to  Montholon,  who  in  ten  minutes  was  horribly 
sick.  The  Emperor  was  naturally  furious,  called 
Antommarchi  an  assassin,  and  declared  that  he  would 
never  see  him  again. 

For  some  time  past  the  young  Corsican  had  been 
weary  of  his  confinement  and  his  attendance  on  one 
whom  he  considered  an  imaginary  invalid.  He  spent 
much  of  his  time  in  Jamestown,  or  outside  the  limits, 
to  the  disgust  of  the  orderly  who  was  forced  to  accom- 
pany him.  Finally,  in  January,  1821,  he  signified 
to  Sir  Thomas  Reade  his  intention  of  leaving  the 
Emperor's  service  and  the  island.  On  January  31, 
1821,  he  wrote  to  Montholon  that  he  desired  to  return 
to  Europe,  and  that  he  felt  with  regret  his  inabUity 
to  gain  the  Emperor's  confidence.  Napoleon  at  once 
gave  his  consent  in  a  letter,  which  Montholon  truly 
characterizes  as  bien  dure.  We  quote  the  con- 
cluding paragraph:  "During  the  fifteen  months  that 
you  have  spent  on  the  island  you  have  not  made 

27 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

His  Majesty  feel  any  confidence  in  your  moral  char- 
acter; you  can  be  of  no  use  to  him  in  his  illness,  and 
so  there  is  no  object  in  prolonging  your  stay  here." 
In  spite  of  this  scathing  sentence,  Bertrand  and  Mon- 
tholon  patched  up  a  reconciliation,  and  on  February 
6th  Antommarchi  was  permitted  to  resume  his  ser- 
vice. On  March  23d,  as  we  have  seen,  there  was  an- 
other quarrel,  and  Montholon  records  that  on  March 
31st  Napoleon  refused  to  allow  his  name  to  be  even 
mentioned.  However,  on  April  3d  he  was  allowed  to 
be  present  at  Dr.  Arnott's  visit.  On  April  8th,  being 
again  absent  when  summoned,  he  is  formally  told 
that  the  Emperor  will  never  see  him  again.  On  April 
9th  he  went  to  Sir  Hudson  Lowe  to  request  permission 
to  return  to  Europe — twenty-six  days  before  Napo- 
leon's death.  Lowe  said  that  he  must  refer  the  mat- 
ter to  England.  On  April  i6th  Arnott  insisted  that 
Napoleon  should  once  more  receive  Antommarchi. 
On  April  17th  Napoleon  dictates  a  letter,  which  he  in- 
sists on  Antommarchi  signing  as  a  condition  of  re- 
maining, as  the  doctor  had  been  accused  of  idle  gossip 
and  jests  as  to  his  master's  habits.  On  April  i8th  he 
is  once  more  allowed  to  accompany  Arnott  to  the 
patient's  room.  On  April  21st,  however,  the  English 
doctors  hold  a  consultation  without  him;  and  when 
Montholon  wishes  to  summon  him  on  April  29th,  Na- 
poleon twice  angrily  refuses.  For  the  first  five  days 
of  May,  the  last  five  days  of  life,  he  is  allowed  to 
watch  in  the  room  adjacent  to  the  sick-room.  In  the 
last  agony,  whenever  he  tries  to  moisten  the  lips  of 
the  dying  man.  Napoleon  repels  him  and  signs  to 
•g  *\  \    (  Montholon.    Finally,  on  May  5th  Napoleon  dies,  and, 

!  alone  of  all  his  attendants,  omits  Antommarchi  from 

[  his  will. 

28 


LAS    CASES,   ANTOMMARCHI,    ETC. 

Why  recall  all  this  so  minutely?  For  the  simple 
reason  that  there  is  not  a  word  of  it  in  Antommarchi's 
book.  That  work,  on  the  contrary,  records  nothing 
but  the  single-minded  devotion  of  the  physician,  and 
the  affectionate  gratitude  of  the  patient.  For  exam- 
ple, on  the  day  on  which  Napoleon  twice  refused  to 
see  him,  he  records  that  the  patient  reluctantly  ac- 
cepted one  of  his  remedies,  and  declared,  "  You  can 
measure  by  my  resignation  the  gratitude  I  feel  for 
you."  Napoleon,  declares  the  doctor,  added  confi- 
dential directions  about  his  funeral — that  it  was  to 
be,  failing  Paris,  at  Ajaccio,  and,  failing  Ajaccio, 
near  the  spring  in  St.  Helena.  On  the  26th  of  March, 
when  Napoleon  would  have  none  of  him,  Antom- 
marchi  represents  himself  as  persuading  Napoleon 
to  see  Arnott.  Montholon  says  that  it  was  on  the 
31st  that  Napoleon  first  consented  that  Arnott  should 
be  sent  for,  and  adds,  "  As  for  Antommarchi,  he  per- 
sists in  forbidding  that  his  very  name  should  be  men- 
tioned. "  Daily  he  records  minute  syhiptoms,  and 
elaborate,  affectionate  conversations  with  his  patient. 
But  not  a  word  of  his  being  forbidden  the  door,  or 
of  his  contemptuous  dismissal,  or  of  his  efforts  to 
leave  the  island.  Yet  the  two  volumes  which  con- 
tain his  record  of  eighteen  months  would  have  suf- 
ficed to  find  room  for  this.  It  is  not  possible  that  Mon- 
tholon should  be  guilty  of  gratuitous  falsehood  with 
regard  to  him.  Montholon  is  well  disposed  towards 
Antommarchi ;  his  statements  are  supported  both  by 
documentary  evidence  and  by  the  testimony  of  Lowe. 
No;  we  must  take  the  Antommarchian  narrative  for 
what  it  is  worth,  and  that  is  very  little.  For  our  own 
part,  we  accept  with  great  misgiving  any  of  his  un- 
corroborated statements.     How,  for  example,  can  we 

29 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

credit  that,  in  the  midst  of  this  period  of  distrust  and 
aversion,  Napoleon  should  have  harangued  him  in 
this  fashion:  "When  I  am  dead,  each  of  you  will 
have  the  sweet  consolation  of  returning  to  Europe. 
You  will  see  again,  the  one  your  relations,  the  other 
your  friends,  and  I  shall  find  my  braves  in  the  Ely- 
sian  Fields,  Yes,"  he  continued,  raising  his  voice, 
"  Kleber,  Desaix,  Bessi^res,  Duroc,  Ney,  Murat,  Mas- 
sena,  Berthier,  all  will  come  to  meet  me:  they  will 
speak  to  me  of  what  we  have  done  together.  I  will 
narrate  to  them  the  later  events  of  my  life.  In  seeing 
me  they  will  become  mad  with  enthusiasm  and  glory. 
We  will  talk  of  our  wars  to  the  Scipios,  the  Hanni- 
bals,  the  Caesars,  the  Fredericks,  etc."  This  fustian, 
of  which  Napoleon  could  scarcely  have  been  guilty 
before  his  delirium,  is  supposed  to  have  been  deliv- 
ered to  an  audience  of  two,  Antommarchi  and  Mon- 
tholon  —  Antommarchi,  who  was  in  disgrace,  and 
Montholon,  who,  though  he  hung  on  his  master's 
words,  does  not  even  mention  so  remarkable  a  speech. 
We  may  safely  aver  that  this  is  not  what  Napoleon 
said,  but  what  Antommarchi  considers  that  Napo- 
leon ought  to  have  said. 

One  service  Antommarchi  rendered,  which  almost 
outweighs  his  worthless  and  mendacious  book.  He 
took  a  cast  of  Napoleon's  face  after  his  death.  The 
original  of  this,  now  in  England,  represents  the  ex- 
quisite and  early  beauty  of  the  countenance,  when 
illness  had  transmuted  passion  into  patience,  and 
when  death,  with  its  last  serene  touch,  had  restored 
the  regularity  and  refinement  of  youth.  All  who  be- 
held the  corpse  were  struck  by  this  transformation. 
"How  very  beautiful!"  was  the  exclamation  of  the 
Englishmen  who  beheld  it.     But  Antommarchi  had 


LAS   CASES,    ANTOMMARCHl,    ETC. 

to  fight  even  for  the  authenticity  of  his  cast.  The 
phrenologists  fell  on  him  and  rent  him.  They  de- 
clared that  the  skull  had  not  the  bumps,  or  the  bony 
developments,  requisite  for  a  hero.  Others  averred 
that  it  was  rather  the  face  of  the  First  Consul  than  of 
the  Emperor,  which  is  true.  Others  remembered  that 
Antommarchi  had  not  produced  the  cast  till  late  in 
1830.  We  can  only  sum  up  our  conclusions  by  de- 
claring that  we  believe  in  the  cast,  but  that  if  it  be  not 
more  authentic  than  the  book,  we  agree  with  the 
phrenologists. 

Warden's  book  consists  of  letters,  addressed  to  the 
lady  he  afterwards  married,  vamped  up  by  "a  lit- 
erary gentleman."  It  bears,  in  passages,  too  obvi- 
ous marks  of  the  handiwork  of  the  literary  gentle- 
man, who  puts  into  Warden's  mouth  meditations  of 
deplorable  bathos.  But  in  any  case  the  book  is  of 
little  value,  for  a  simple  reason :  Napoleon  knew  no 
English,  Warden  knew  no  French;  and  their  inter- 
preter was  Las  Cases.  But  we  cannot  help  wondering 
who  translated  two  of  Warden's  tactful  remarks  to 
Napoleon.  The  latter  had  asked  which  was  the  more 
popular  in  England,  the  army  or  the  navy.  War- 
den replies  in  the  noblest  style,  and  ends,  "Such  a 
field  as  that  of  Waterloo  can  hardly  find  adequate 
gratitude  in  the  hearts  of  Englishmen!"  To  this 
Napoleon  made  no  reply.  On  another  occasion.  War- 
den addressed  the  Emperor  as  follows :  "  The  people 
of  England  appear  to  feel  an  interest  in  knowing 
your  sentiments  respecting  the  militar}^  character  of 
the  Duke  of  Wellington.  They  have  no  doubt  that 
you  would  be  just ;  and  perhaps  they  may  indulge  the 
expectation  that  your  justice  might  produce  a  eulo- 
gium  of  which  the  Duke  of  Wellington  may  be  proud." 

31 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

Again  Napoleon  did  not  answer.  But  we  incline  to 
hope  and  believe  that  the  strain  of  translating  these 
two  observations  was  not  placed  on  any  interpreter, 
but  that  they  proceed  from  the  fertile  resources  of  the 
"literary  gentleman,"  who  was  not,  however,  equal 
to  inventing  the  reply. 

If  any  one,  however,  should  be  inclined  to  give 
credit  to  this  narrative,  he  should  examine  the  letter 
of  Sir  Thomas  Reade  (head  of  Lowe's  staff  at  St. 
Helena),  which  sets  down  three-fourths  of  the  book 
as  untrue.  Reade  adds,  we  think  correctly,  that  on 
certain  specified  points,  such  as  the  death  of  Captain 
Wright,  and  the  execution  of  the  Due  d'Enghien, 
Las  Cases  was  ordered  to  make  explanations  to  War- 
den which  could  be  published  in  Europe. 

Napoleon's  reply  to  Warden  was  published  in  a 
little  book  called  Letters  from  the  Cape.  These  let- 
ters are  addressed  to  a  Lady  C,  who  was,  no  doubt. 
Lady  Clavering,  a  Frenchwoman  who  had  married 
an  English  baronet,  and  who  was  a  devoted  adhe- 
rent of  the  Emperor's,  as  well  as  a  very  intimate 
friend  of  Las  Cases.  They  were  addressed  to  her, 
and  dated  from  the  Cape,  in  order  to  make  the  world 
believe  that  Las  Cases,  then  at  the  Cape,  had  writ- 
ten them.  The  importance  of  this  book  arises  from 
the  fact  that  it  is  considered  by  the  official  editors 
of  Napoleon's  correspondence  to  be  his  composition, 
and  they  print  it  among  his  works.  This  is  high  au- 
thority, and  is  supported  by  the  fact  that  a  first  proof 
of  these  letters  is  in  existence,  with  numerous  cor- 
rections and  additions  in  Napoleon's  autograph. 
But,  apart  from  these  proofs,  it  is  abundantly  clear, 
on  the  testimony  both  of  Gourgaud  and  of  Montho- 
lon,  that  the  Emperor  dictated  these  letters  himself. 

32 


LAS   CASES,    ANTOMMARCHI.    ETC. 

Who  translated  them  into  EngHsh,  however,  does 
not  appear.  If  they  were  translated  on  the  island, 
it  was  probably  by  Mme.  Bertrand,  for  O'Meara  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  in  the  secret  of  them.  "  The 
Emperor,"  says  Gourgaud,  "tells  me  that  he  does 
not  intend  to  reply  to  Warden,  but  that  Las  Cases, 
now  at  the  Cape,  will  reply,"  Gourgaud  bluntly 
answers  that  he  himself  has  seen  more  than  ten 
letters  dictated  by  Napoleon  to  Bertrand  for  publi- 
cation. One,  indeed,  is  on  the  table  at  the  moment. 
The  Emperor  no  longer  denies  the  authorship,  and 
Gourgaud  is  taken  into  his  confidence  with  regard 
to  their  composition:  The  letters  are  given  to  him 
for  correction  and  annotation.  On  August  l6,  1817, 
he  reads  his  observations  on  them  to  Napoleon,  and 
many  of  them  are  adopted.  On  August  226.  Mon- 
tholon  and  Gourgaud  both  record  that  Napoleon 
finished  the  evening  by  having  read  to  him  the  fifth, 
sixth,  seventh,  and  eighth  letters  in  reply  to  Warden. 
Gourgaud  also  mentions  that  he  is  the  reader,  while 
Montholon  notes  that  the  Emperor  bids  Gourgaud 
embody  them  in  a  book.  'Gourgaud,  for  once  courtier- 
like, or,  at  any  rate,  prudent,  replies  that  this  would 
be  the  work  of  a  copyist,  as  there  is  so  little  to  correct. 
The  exiles  do  not  admire  them.  The  Montholons 
think  that  the  Emperor  in  these  letters  puts  ridicu- 
lous speeches  into  their  mouths,  and  Mme.  Montho- 
lon goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  they  are  badly  writ- 
ten, full  of  sottises  and  personalities.  She  is  vexed 
that  the  name  of  her  husband  should  be  cited  in 
them.  It  is  all  dirt,  she  says,  and  the  more  you 
stir  it  up  the  worse  it  will  smell;  and  she  believes 
that  this  pamphlet  will  occasion  much  hostile  criti- 
cism. It  is,  indeed,  only  a  pamphlet  for  contempo- 
C  33 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

rary  consumption,  with  statements  in  it  intended  to 
influence  public  opinion.  It  has  no  value  except 
from  its  authorship  and  the  statement  made  in  it 
of  the  fabricated  letter  of  the  Due  d'Enghien,  the  ex- 
istence of  which  the  pamphlet  explicitly  asserts. 

O'Meara's*  yot'ce  from  St.  Helena  is  perhaps  the 
most  popular  of  all  the  Long  wood  narratives,  and 
few  publications  ever  excited  so  great  a  sensation  as 
that  produced  by*  this  worthless  book.  For  worthless 
it  undoubtedly  is,  in  spite  of  its  spirited  flow  and  the 
vivid  interest  of  the  dialogue.  No  one  can  read  the 
volumes  of  Forsyth,  in  which  are  printed  the  letters  of 
O'Meara  to  Lowe,  or  the  handy  and  readable  treatise 
in  which  Mr.  Seaton  distils  the  essence  of  those  vol- 
umes, and  retain  any  confidence  in  O'Meara's  facts. 
He  may  sometimes  report  conversations  correctly,  or 
he  may  not,  but  in  any  doubtful  case  it  is  impossible 
to  accept  his  evidence.  He  was  the  confidential  ser- 
vant of  Napoleon ;  unknown  to  Napoleon,  he  was  the 
confidential  agent  of  Lowe;  and  behind  both  their 
backs  he  was  the  confidential  informant  of  the  British 
government,  for  whom  he  wrote  letters  to  be  circu- 
lated to  the  cabinet.  Testimony  from  such  a  source 
is  obviously  tainted. 

The  book  of  Santini  is  a  pure  fabrication.  It  was 
written  by  Colonel  Maceroni,  an  Anglo-Italian  fol- 
lower of  Murat's,  who  has  left  some  readable  mem- 
oirs. Santini,  who  had  indeed  little  time  for  com- 
position, being  Napoleon's  tailor,  hair -cutter,  and 
game-keeper,  has,  however,  his  episode  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  captivity.  As  he  was  waiting  at  dinner 
one  night  Napoleon  burst  forth  at  him:  "What, 
brigand,  you  wished  to  kill  the  governor!  you  vil- 
lain !    If  you  have  any  such  notions  again,  you  will 

34 


LAS   CASES,    ANTOMMARCHI,    ETC. 

have  to  deal  with  me."  And  then  the  Emperor  ex- 
plains to  his  guests  that  Santini,  who  had  been  of 
late  on  long  solitary  excursions  with  a  double-bar- 
relled gun,  had  admitted  to  another  Corsican  that  he 
intended  one  barrel  for  the  governor,  and  the  other 
for  himself.  It  seemed  quite  natural  to  Santini.  He 
wished  to  rid  the  world  of  a  monster.  "  It  needed  all 
my  imperial,  all  my  pontifical  authority,"  said  Na- 
poleon, "to  restrain  him."  Santini  was  deported 
from  the  island  by  Sir  Hudson  Lowe,  and  is  said 
to  have  learned  by  heart  Napoleon's  great  protest 
to  the  powers,  and  so  first  brought  it  to  Europe. 
Maceroni  declares  that  this  Corsican  factotum  was 
seized  on  Dutch  territory  by  a  force  of  Prussian  cav- 
alry and  never  seen  again.  This  is,  of  course,  a 
pure  fiction.  Santini  was  harassed  enough  without 
so  awesome  a  fate.  He  was  hunted  and  spied  until 
he  was  allowed  to  live  under  surveillance.  He  finally 
returned  to  Paris,  and  ended  his  life,  not  unsuitably, 
as  custodian  of  his  master's  tomb  at  the  Invalides. 

The  value  of  Lady  Malcolm's  book  consists,  as  has 
been  said  already,  in  the  vivid  reports  of  Napoleon's 
conversation,  which  bear  the  impress  of  having  been 
dictated,  so  to  speak,  red-hot,  by  the  admiral,  and  in 
the  picture  it  gives  us  of  Lowe.  Malcolm  pleased  the 
Emperor,  though  on  one  stormy  occasion  he  did  not 
escape  being  called  a  fool  {Vamiral  qui  est  un  sot), 
and  Lady  Malcolm  was  supposed,  in  her  turn,  to  be 
fascinated.  Napoleon  would  talk  to  Malcolm  three 
or  four  hours  at  a  time;  never,  for  reasons  of  etiquette, 
seated,  or  allowing  a  seat;  both  men  standing  or 
walking  about,  till  at  last  they  would  lean  against 
the  furniture  from  fatigue.  The  raciness  of  Napo- 
leon's conversation,  even  in  a  translation,  is  notable. 

35 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

"I  made  Ossian  the  fashion/'  he  exclaims.  "The 
income-tax  is  a  good  tax,  for  every  one  grumbles  at 
it,  which  shows  that  every  one  pays  it."  "Trifles 
are  great  things  in  France,  reason  nothing."  He 
tells  the  story  of  the  Dey  of  Algiers,  who,  on  hearing 
that  the  French  were  fitting  out  an  expedition  to  de- 
stroy the  town,  said  that,  if  the  king  would  send 
him  half  the  money  that  the  expedition  would  cost, 
he  would  burn  down  the  town  himself.  It  is  scarcely 
necessary  to  say  that  Lowe  disliked  these  visits  for 
many  reasons.  He  had  quarrelled  with  Napoleon, 
therefore  every  one  should  quarrel  with  him.  He 
could  not  see  Napoleon,  therefore  no  one  should  see 
him.  It  was  now  abundantly  clear  that  the  one 
supreme  distinction  at  St.  Helena  was  to  obtain  an 
interview  with  Napoleon;  it  was  also  clear  that  this 
annoyed  the  ruler  of  St.  Helena,  with  whom  no  one 
endured  an  interview  who  could  possibly  avoid  it. 
Moreover,  w^ho  could  tell  what  terrible  things  might 
not  be  said  in  conversation?  Plans  of  escape  might 
be  concerted,  messages  might  be  transmitted,  and, 
sin  of  sins,  the  governor  might  be  criticised.  So  the 
person  who  had  seen  Napoleon  was  expected  to  hurry 
to  the  governor  to  report  what  had  passed,  with  the 
certain  reward  of  being  suspected  of  having  sup- 
pressed something  material.  An  English  lieuten- 
ant was  sent  away  from  the  island  because  he  de- 
layed for  a  few  days  to  report  to  the  governor  a  com- 
monplace remark  made  by  the  Bertrands,  who  had 
met  him  in  a  walk.  Even  the  admiral  could  not  be 
trusted.  He  soon  ceased  to  be  on  speaking  terms 
with  the  governor,  but  sedulously  reported  by  letter 
his  conversations  with  Napoleon.  Sir  Hudson's  re- 
ply to  the  last  report  charged  the  admiral  with  sup- 

36 


LAS   CASES,    ANTOMMARCHI,    ETC. 

pressing  matters  of  consequence,  and  "the  admiral 
now  discovered  that  there  was  a  system  of  spies 
on  the  island,  and  that  every  trifle  was  reported  to 
the  governor.  With  open,  candid  Englishmen," 
continues  the  ingenuous  Lady  Malcolm,  "this  is 
detestable,  and  must  cause  incalculable  evil."  An 
exchange  of  letters  ensued  between  the  two  high 
dignitaries,  of  so  inflammable  a  character  that  its 
destruction  was  suggested.  A  previous  correspond- 
ence has,  however,  been  preserved,  eminently  char- 
acteristic of  Lowe,  whose  share  in  it  is  tart,  narrow, 
and  suspicious.  No  one  who  reads  it  can  fail  to 
understand  why  he  was  an  unfit  representative  of 
Britain  in  so  delicate  and  difficult  a  charge. 


CHAPTER  III 

GOURGAUD 

But  the  one  capital  and  supreme  record  of  life  at 
St.  Helena  is  the  private  journal  of  Gourgaud,  writ- 
ten, in  the  main  at  least,  for  his  own  eye  and  con- 
science alone,  without  flattery  or  even  prejudice,  al- 
most brutal  in  its  raw  realism.  He  alone  of  all  the 
chroniclers  strove  to  be  accurate,  and,  on  the  whole, 
succeeded.  For  no  man  would  willingly  draw  such 
a  portrait  of  himself  as  Gourgaud  has  page  by  page 
delineated.  He  takes,  indeed,  the  greatest  pains  to 
prove  that  no  more  captious,  cantankerous,  sullen, 
and  impossible  a  being  than  himself  has  ever  ex- 
isted. He  watched  his  master  like  a  jealous  woman  : 
as  Napoleon  himself  remarked,  ''He  loved  me  as 
a  lover  loves  his  mistress;  he  was  impossible." 
Did  Napoleon  call  Bertrand  an  excellent  engineer, 
or  Las  Cases  a  devoted  friend,  or  Montholon  by  the 
endearing  expression  of  son,  Gourgaud  went  off  into 
a  dumb,  glowering,  self- torturing  rage,  which  he 
fuses  into  his  journal ;  and  yet,  by  a  strange  hazard, 
writing  sometimes  with  almost  insane  fury  about 
his  master,  produces  the  most  pleasing  portrait  of 
Napoleon  that  exists.  The  fact  is,  he  was  utterly 
out  of  place.  On  active  service,  on  the  field  of  battle, 
he  would  have  been  of  the  utmost  service  to  his  chief : 
a  keen,  intelligent,  devoted  aide-de-camp.     But  in  the 

38 


GOURGAUD 

inaction  of  St.  Helena  his  energy,  deprived  of  its 
natural  outlet,  turned  on  himself,  on  his  nerves, 
on  his  relations  to  others.  The  result  is  that  he 
was  never  happy  except  when  quarrelling  or  grum- 
bling. Napoleon  himself  was  in  much  the  same 
position.  His  fire  without  fuel,  to  use  Mme.  de 
Montholon's  figure,  consumed  himself  and  those 
around  him.  But  Napoleon  had  the  command  of 
what  luxury  and  companionship  there  was:  the 
others  of  the  little  colony  had  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren.    Gourgaud  had  nothing. 

Napoleon  seems  to  have  been  aware  that  Gourgaud 
was  not  the  man  for  the  place.  He  had  originally 
selected  Planat,  a  man  of  simple  and  devoted  char- 
acter, to  accompany  him.  Maitland  had  noticed 
on  the  Bellerophon  the  tears  stealing  down  Planat 's 
cheeks  as  he  sat  at  breakfast  the  first  day  and  con- 
templated his  fallen  master,  and  had  formed  a  high 
opinion  of  him.  Planat,  indeed,  at  the  moment  of 
Napoleon's  death,  was  preparing,  with  unshaken 
fidelity,  to  proceed  to  St.  Helena  to  take  the  place  of 
Montholon.  But  on  his  first  nomination  being  com- 
municated to  Gourgaud,  there  was  such  a  scene  of 
jealous  fury  that  Gourgaud's  name  had  to  be  sub- 
stituted. Gourgaud's  wishes  had  thus  been  gratified ; 
he  was  almost  alone  with  the  Emperor,  his  only 
resource  was  the  Emperor,  yet  every  day  his  sulki- 
ness  and  susceptibility  alienated  the  Emi)eror  from 
him.  We  perceive  in  his  own  record  constant  hints 
from  Napoleon  that  he  had  better  go,  which  become 
broader  and  broader  as  time  goes  on.  At  last  he 
departed,  having  first  challenged  Montholon.  The 
Emperor  intervened,  and  enveloj^ed  Montholon  in 
his  authority.    Whether  the  duel  was  a  comedy  or 

39 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

not,  it  is  impossible  to  say.  The  editors  of  his  jour- 
nal think  that  it  was.  Their  case  rests  entirely  on 
a  document  which  they  print  in  their  preface  from 
the  original  among  Gourgaud's  papers,  a  letter  writ- 
ten by  Montholon  to  Gourgaud  a  fortnight  after  the 
challenge,  which  shows  that  their  relations  were  then 
not  unfriendly,  and  that  the  departure  of  Gourgaud 
was  either  planned  or  utilized  by  the  Emperor  for 
purposes  of  his  own.  "The  Emperor  thinks,  my 
dear  Gourgaud,''  writes  Montholon,  "that  you  are 
overacting  your  part.  He  fears  that  Sir  H.  Lowe 
may  begin  to  open  his  eyes."  We  admit  that  if  this 
letter  were  printed  by  Las  Cases  we  should  be  in- 
clined to  doubt  it;  as  it  is,  we  have  no  ground  for 
questioning  its  authenticity.  But  how  much  of 
Gourgaud's  departure  was  dramatic  and  strategical, 
and  how  much  due  to  profound  weariness  and  vex- 
ation of  spirit,  we  cannot  know :  it  was  probably  a 
compound.  It  is,  however,  noteworthy  that  two 
months  before  the  ostentatious  rupture  Montholon 
records  that  the  Emperor  is  determined  to  send  Gour- 
gaud away  in  order  to  appeal  to  the  Russian  Em- 
peror. And,  according  to  Montholon,  as  will  ap- 
pear later,  Gourgaud's  departure  is  merely  a  Rus- 
sian mission.  There  is  no  mention  or  question  of  a 
quarrel.  This,  however,  is  an  omission  probably 
due  to  the  editing  of  1847.  In  fine,  we  believe  the 
truth  to  be  this :  Gourgaud  was  weary  of  the  life  at 
St.  Helena;  Napoleon  was  weary  of  Gourgaud;  so 
that  Gourgaud's  real  and  active  jealousy  of  Mon- 
tholon was  utilized  by  the  Emperor  as  a  means  both 
of  getting  rid  of  Gourgaud  and  of  communicating 
with  Europe  through  an  officer  who  could  thoroughly 
explain  the  situation  and  policy  of  Longwood. 

.40 


GOURGAUD 

The  value  of  Gourgaud's  journal  does  not  lie  in 
the  portrayal  of  himself,  but  of  his  master.  Inci- 
dentally, however,  it  is  necessary  to  say  much  of 
Gourgaud  as  the  foil  who  illustrates  a  new  view  of 
his  chief's  character.  Without  this  inducement  we 
should  soon  have  had  enough  of  the  brilliant  young 
officer,  devoted  to  his  master,  with  the  unreasonable, 
petulant  jealousy  which  made  his  devotion  intolera- 
ble, but,  above  all,  profoundly  bored.  Bored  with 
the  island,  bored  with  the  confinement,  bored  with 
the  isolation,  bored  with  celibacy,  bored  with  court 
life  in  a  shanty  involving  all  the  burden  without  any 
of  the  splendor  of  a  palace,  bored  with  inaction,  bored 
with  himself  for  being  bored.  And  so  he  is  forced 
to  sharpen  his  rusting  energies  with  quarrels,  sulky 
rage  with  the  Emperor,  fitful  furies  with  Las  Cases, 
and,  when  Las  Cases  is  deported,  animosity  against 
Montholon,  apparently  because  there  is  no  one  else 
to  quarrel  with ;  for  Bertrand  is  a  laborious  and  fu- 
tile peacemaker.  The  long  moan  of  his  life  is  Ennui. 
Ennui,  Grand  Ennui,  Melancholic,  are  his  perpet- 
ual entries.  Here  is  a  week's  sample  record :  "  Mardi 
25,  Ennui,  Ennui!  Mercredi  26,  idem.  Jeudi  27, 
idem.  Vendredi  28,  idem.  Samedi  29,  idem.  Di- 
manche  30,  Grand  Ennui."  Again, "  j'^touffe  d'En- 
nui."  We  fear,  indeed,  that,  so  far  as  Gourgaud 
is  concerned,  the  compendious  word  Ennui  would 
make  an  adequate  substitute  for  the  1200  octavo 
pages  of  his  journal.  Fortunately  it  is  not  Gourgaud 
who  is  in  question. 

Let  us  confess  that  the  more  we  see  of  him  the  bet- 
ter we  like  him.  He  first  became  familiar  to  us  in 
warfare  with  Sir  Walter  Scott.  Scott  hinted  that 
Gourgaud  had  acted  a  double  part,  and  had  been  a 

41 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

sort  of  agent  for  the  British  government.  Thereupon 
Gourgaud,  not  unnaturally,  wished  to  fight  Scott, 
and,  denied  the  relief  of  pistols,  betook  himself  to 
pamphlets.  But  to  be  a  foe  of  Scott  is  to  be  the  foe 
of  Great  Britain ;  and  Gourgaud  passed  among  us  as 
a  sort  of  swashbuckler  of  dubious  reputation.  As  to 
Scott's  charges  we  say  nothing,  because  we  know 
nothing,  nor  were  they  adequately  dealt  with  by 
Gourgaud.  All  that  he  says  which  is  pertinent  to 
Scott's  charges  is  that  never  once  while  at  Longwood 
did  he  speak  to  Sir  H.  Lowe,  and  that  he  defies  any 
one  to  show  a  single  line  in  his  handwriting  which  is 
not  instinct  with  the  devotion  he  felt  for  Napoleon. 
In  making  this  challenge  he  must  have  been  con- 
scious that  his  own  diary  was  in  his  own  keeping, 
for  it  contains  innumerable  passages  which  would 
scarcely  have  stood  his  test.  Moreover,  he  records 
in  it  more  than  one  interview  he  had  with  Lowe  while 
he  was  at  Longwood.  But  where  at  St.  Helena  was 
truth  to  be  found?  "Jesting  Pilate"  might  long 
have  waited  for  any  local  indication  from  that  island. 
It  is  alleged  by  Scott  that  "before  leaving  St. 
Helena  he  was  very  communicative  both  to  Sir  Hud- 
son Lowe  and  Sturmer,  the  Austrian  commissioner, 
respecting  the  secret  hopes  and  plans  which  were 
carrying  on  at  Longwood.  When  he  arrived  in  Brit- 
ain in  the  spring  of  l8l8  he  was  no  less  frank  and 
open  with  the  British  government,  informing  them 
of  the  various  proposals  for  escape  which  had  been 
laid  before  Napoleon,  the  facilities  and  difficulties 
which  attended  them,  and  the  reasons  why  he  pre- 
ferred remaining  on  the  island  to  making  the  at- 
tempt.'' Scott  rests  these  statements  on  records  in 
the  State  Paper  Ofi&ce,  and  on  a  report  by  Sturmer, 

4^ 


GOURGAUD 

which,  with  the  adhesive  disingenuousness  of  Si 
Helena,  is  not  included  in  the  French  collection  of 
Sturmer's  reports,  but  which  may  be  found,  stripped 
of  its  date,  in  the  gloomy  recesses  of  Forsyth's  ap- 
pendix. We  do  not  pretend  or  wish  to  adjudicate 
on  this  matter,  but  we  do  not  believe  that  Gour- 
gaud,  an  honorable  and  distinguished  French  gen- 
eral, long  attached  to  the  person  of  Napoleon,  would 
wantonly  reveal  to  Lowe,  Bathurst,  or  Sturmer  the 
real  secrets  of  the  Emperor's  intimacy.  We  are 
rather  inclined  to  believe  that,  either  to  obtain  the 
confidence  of  these  gentlemen,  or  to  gratify  his  own 
sense  of  humor,  or,  most  probable  of  all,  to  divert 
their  suspicions  from  something  else,  he  was  mysti- 
fying them;  and,  perhaps,  as  Montholon  says,  over- 
playing his  part.  When  we  read  in  Balmain's  re- 
ports, "His  denunciations  of  his  former  master  are 
beyond  decency,"  or  when  he  tells  Balmain  that  he 
intended  to  shoot  Napoleon  on  the  battle-field  of 
Waterloo,  and  cannot  understand  why  he  failed  to  do 
so,  we  seem  to  hear  the  warning  voice  of  Montholon, 
"You  are  overacting  your  part."  His  candor  was 
at  least  suspicious;  ton  de  franchise  suspect,  says 
the  Russian  government  in  its  memorial.  We  do 
not  believe,  for  example,  that  it  had  been  projwsed 
to  remove  Napoleon  in  a  trunk  of  dirty  linen,  or  a 
beer-cask,  or  a  sugar-box,  or  as  a  servant  carrying 
a  dish.  Yet  these,  we  are  informed,  were  the  revela- 
tions of  Gourgaud.  Across  an  abyss  of  eighty  years 
we  seem  to  see  him  wink.  So,  too,  as  to  the  £10,000 
which  Napoleon  is  said  to  have  received  in  Spanish 
doubloons.  Such  a  parcel  would  be  bulky  and 
weighty ;  the  expenditure  of  such  a  coLn  would  soon 
be  traced :  we  know  exactly  the  money  left  by  Na- 

43 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST  PHASE 

poleon  on  his  death,  and  there  are  no  doubloons : 
they  were,  we  are  convinced,  coined  by  Gourgaud 
for  the  consumption  of  Lowe. 

We  think  it  very  possible  that  the  irritable  officer 
did  at  St.  Helena  talk  something  at  random,  as  Bal- 
main  says,  in  the  madness  of  his  jealous  rage,  and 
that,  as  Montholon  says,  he  overdid  his  part.  But 
we  are  convinced  that  he  revealed  nothing  of  the 
slightest  importance  either  now  or  afterwards  in 
London.  Indeed,  he  was  soon  ordered  out  of  Eng- 
land on  account  of  his  active  devotion  to  the  cause 
of  his  master. 

It  must,  however,  be  admitted  that  on  one  occasion 
at  St.  Helena  he  used  language  which,  to  say  the 
least,  is  ambiguous.  We  give  it  as  recorded  by  him- 
self. He  is  speaking  to  Montchenu,  the  old  French 
Royalist  commissioner.  "You  are  talking,"  says 
Gourgaud,  "  to  a  chevalier  of  St.  Louis;  whatever  at 
tachment  I  might  still  have  felt  (in  1814)  for  the  Em- 
peror, nothing  could  have  made  me  fail  in  my  duty 
to  the  King  and  my  gratitude  to  the  Due  de  Berry. 
The  proof  of  this  is  that  my  friend  Lallemand  thought 
me  too  much  attached  to  this  last  prince  to  put  me  in 
the  secret  of  his  conspiracy.  After  the  departure  of 
the  King  and  the  dismissal  of  his  household,  I  gave  in 
my  adhesion  to  the  chief  of  the  French  nation.  I 
should  always  have  remained  faithful  to  the  King 
had  he  remained  with  the  army,  but  I  thought  that 
he  abandoned  us.  On  April  3d  I  was  appointed  by  the 
Emperor  his  first  orderly  officer,  and  that  is  why  I  am 
here."  Men  who  use  language  of  this  kind  cannot 
complain  if  they  are  misunderstood,  o;*  if  thej?^  are 
held  to  be  playing  an  ambiguous  part. 

Gourgaud  was,  it  should  be  remembered,  esteemed 

44 


GOURGAUD 

by  all  who  knew  him,  and  did  not  have  to  live  with 
him.  But  the  curse  of  his  temper  was  jealousy, 
which  made  him  an  impossible  companion.  It  em- 
poisoned his  life  at  St.  Helena.  Long  after  his  de- 
parture from  St.  Helena  the  success  of  S^gur's  nar- 
rative of  the  Russian  campaign  maddened  him,  and 
drove  him  to  publishing  a  waspish,  unworthy  criti- 
cism of  it  in  a  thick  volume,  which  has  by  no  means 
attained  the  enduring  fame  of  the  history  which  it 
professes  to  review.  By  others  whom  his  jealousies 
did  not  touch  he  was  highly  esteemed.  Lowe,  for 
example,  always  considered  and  described  him  as  a 
gallant  and  loyal  soldier  who  followed  his  Emi)eror 
in  adversity,  without  mixing  himself  up  in  vexa- 
tions and  complaints.  Jackson  says  the  same  thing. 
"He  is  a  brave  and  distinguished  officer,"  says 
Sturmer,  "but  no  courtier";  and  this  description 
sums  him  up  exactly.  He  was  so  little  of  a  courtier 
that  the  proceedings  of  courtiers  irritate  him.  When 
Las  Cases  exclaims,  on  hearing  some  military  nar- 
rative of  Napoleon's,  that  it  is  finer  than  the  Iliad, 
Gourgaud,  like  Burchell  in  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield, 
says,  audibly,  "  Fudge,"  or  its  equivalent.  The  nar- 
rative had  been  dictated  to  and  put  in  form  by  Las 
Cases;  so  Gourgaud  grimly  remarks,  "I  can  see 
Achilles  well  enough,  but  not  Las  Cases  as  Homer." 
He  is  so  repelled  by  this  sort  of  thing  that  Napoleon 
ceases  to  confide  his  compositions  to  him,  and  keeps 
them  for  the  less  formidable  criticisms  of  Las  Cases. 
He  had  seen  the  brilliant  side  of  court  life  at  the 
Tuileries  when  he  had  other  things  to  think  of  than 
the  relative  favor  of  courtiers ;  now  he  sees  nothing 
but  the  seamy  side,  and  has  nothing  to  think  of  but 
the  confidence  shown  to  others  and  the  coldness  to 

45 


NAPOLEON:    THE  LAST   PHASE 

himself.  He  becomes  more  and  more  sullen,  and, 
consequently,  a  less  and  less  agreeable  companion. 
Take,  for  example,  this :  Napoleon  asks  what  time 
it  is.  "Ten  o'clock,  sire."  "Ah!  how  long  the 
nights  are!"  "And  the  days,  sire?"  At  last  Na- 
poleon says  frankly  to  him :  "  What  right  have  you  to 
complain  that  I  only  see  and  dine  with  Montholon? 
You  are  always  gloomy,  and  do  nothing  but  grumble. 
Be  as  gloomy  as  you  please,  so  long  as  you  do  not 
appear  gloomy  in  my  presence."  And,  though  we 
cannot  blame  Gourgaud  for  being  melancholy,  we 
think  Napoleon  was  right.  In  a  society  of  four  men, 
one  of  whom,  at  any  rate,  might  well  be  held  to  re- 
quire the  anxious  treatment  of  a  convalescent  after 
a  terrible  fall,  there  should  have  been  a  sustained  ef- 
fort in  the  common  interest  to  combat  depression. 
Gourgaud  made  no  such  effort ;  he  was  the  embodi- 
ment of  captious  melancholy,  yet  he  could  not  under- 
stand why  his  bilious  companionship  was  not  eager- 
ly sought.  But  to  the  blank  hopelessness  of  St. 
Helena  a  Knight  of  Sorrowful  Countenance  was  an 
intolerable  addition.  And,  indeed,  on  more  than  one 
occasion  Gourgaud  embarrassed  his  master  by  weep- 
ing in  conversation.  Je,  pleure  is  not  an  unfre- 
quent  entry. 

Moreover,  Gourgaud  was  not  merely  passively 
gloomy;  he  became  actively  a  bore.  He  began  on 
every  slight  occasion  to  detail  his  services  and  his 
claims,  as  a  preface  or  an  epilogue  to  a  long  recital  of 
his  wrongs.  Bertrand  suffered  much  of  this  with 
exemplary  patience;  for  Gourgaud's  conception  of 
conversation  with  Bertrand  is  embodied  in  this  en- 
try: "He  talks  of  his  worries,  and  I  of  mine."  But 
at  last  he  told  Gourgaud  that  no  longer,  even  on  this 

46 


GOURGAUD 

mutual  principle,  could  he  be  wearied  with  Gour- 
gaud's  complaints.  One  of  Gourgaud's  great  achieve- 
ments was  the  having  saved  Napoleon's  life  at  the 
battle  of  Brienne.  He  was  supposed,  by  Warden  at 
any  rate,  to  have  had  his  sword  engraved  with  an 
account  of  this  exploit.  This  was  all  very  well ;  but 
Napoleon  heard  too  much  of  it,  and  so  the  following 
scene  occurred :  Gourgaud — "  I  never  had  engraved 
on  my  sword  that  I  had  saved  your  life,  and  yet  I 
killed  a  hussar  that  was  attacking  Your  Majesty." 
Napoleon — "I  do  not  recollect  it."  Gourgaud— 
"This  is  too  much!"  and  so  poor  Gourgaud  storms. 
At  last  the  Emperor  puts  a  stop  to  this  outburst  of 
spleen  by  saying  that  Gourgaud  is  a  brave  young 
man,  but  that  it  is  astonishing  that  with  such  good 
sense  he  should  be  such  a  baby.  And  Gourgaud  had 
good  sense.  With  regard  to  the  disputes  with  Sir 
Hudson,  his  good  sense  is  nothing  less  than  porten- 
tous. With  regard  to  one  letter  of  complaint,  he  de- 
clares boldly  that  "  the  less  one  writes  about  eating 
and  drinking  the  better,  as  these  sordid  details  lend 
themselves  to  ridicule. "  Again,  speaking  of  the  Em- 
peror, he  says :  "  He  is  working  at  a  reply  to  Lord 
Bathurst,  but  one  cannot  make  a  noble  rejoinder  out 
of  the  question  of  eatables."  He  protests  against 
the  waste  of  the  servants  at  Longwood,  and  makes 
the  remark,  full  of  the  truest  sense  and  dignity :  "  In 
our  position  the  best  course  is  to  accept  the  least." 

On  the  whole  position  he  writes  with  wisdom,  and 
a  conviction  of  what  was  the  proper  attitude  of  Napo- 
leon. "  The  only  law  that  the  Emperor  can  follow, 
in  my  opinion,  is  neither  to  insult  nor  be  friends 
with  Hudson  Lowe.  It  would  be  unworthy  of  His 
Majesty  to  be  on  cordial  terms  with  that  person. 

47 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST  PHASE 

The  Emperor's  position  is  so  frightful  that  the  only 
method  of  maintaining  his  dignity  is  to  appear  re- 
signed, and  to  do  nothing  to  obtain  any  change  in 
the  restrictions.  We  must  endure  everything  with 
resignation.  If  His  Majesty  had  all  the  island  to 
himself,  it  would  be  nothing  compared  to  what  he 
has  lost."  Would  that  Napoleon  had  followed  this 
counsel. 

The  household  at  Longwood  was  not,  and  could 
not  be,  a  happy  family;  but  it  might  have  been 
much  happier  than  it  was.  It  could  not  be  happy, 
in  the  first  place,  of  course,  because  of  the  prodigious 
vicissitude.  But,  secondly,  a  collection  of  Parisians 
could  not  be  cheerful,  perched  like  crippled  sea-birds 
on  a  tropical  rock.  St.  Helena  had  been  chosen 
because  it  was  one  of  the  remotest  of  islands;  for 
that  reason  it  was  antipathetic  to  the  whole  lives 
and  nature,  and  to  every  taste,  of  these  brilliant  peo- 
ple. There  was  no  space,  no  society,  no  amusement. 
There  was  a  meagre  shop,  but  even  there  they  were 
refused  credit  by  order  of  the  governor.  All  things 
considered,  they  bore  this  fate,  so  irksome  to  any 
one,  so  terrible  to  them,  with  fortitude  and  philosophy. 

The  jealousies  which  haunt  a  court  forbade  them 
to  be  a  little  less  unhappy  than  they  were.  For 
them,  at  this  petty  court,  where  neither  fortune  nor 
places  could  be  awarded,  there  was  only  one  dignity, 
only  one  consolation — the  notice  of  the  Emperor, 
which  alone  gave  rank  and  consideration.  Hence 
anger,  envy,  and  tears.  Bertrand  had  soon  remarked 
them:  "His  Majesty,"  he  said,  in  April,  1816,  "is 
the  victim  of  intriguers.  Longwood  is  made  detest- 
able by  their  disputes."  As  a  rule,  Bertrand  com- 
forts himself  by  declaring  that  the  Emperor  is  just 

48 


GOURGAUD 

at  bottom,  and  that  though  intriguers  sometimes  get 
the  upper  hand  for  a  moment,  he  always  in  the  long 
run  returns  to  sound  judgment.  But  jealousy  be- 
gan with  the  very  first  night  on  the  island.  In  Napo- 
leon's limited  lodging  he  had  room  for  only  one  com- 
panion, and  he  chose  Las  CasCvS — Las  Cases,  a  mere 
acquaintance,  as  it  were,  of  the  eleventh  hour.  Las 
Cases  at  once  became  the  enemy  of  the  human  race, 
so  far  as  his  colleagues  were  concerned.  And  so 
they  hated  him  till  he  was  removed,  when  they  all 
fell  on  his  neck  and  forgave  him. 

Then  Montholon  and  Gourgaud  fell  out,  till  Gour- 
gaud  departed.  Then,  when  two  out  of  the  four  had 
gone,  the  other  two  seem  to  have  remained  in  peace 
of  some  kind,  but  we  may  gather  that  the  preference 
shown  to  Montholon  was  the  source  of  some  soreness 
to  Bertrand. 

Another  subject  of  discussion  was  money.  They 
speculated  about  the  Emperor's  supposed  hoards 
with  the  subtle  suspicion  of  heirs  in  a  miser's  sick- 
room. He  has  given  so  much  to  one;  it  is  untrue; 
he  gives  another  a  double  allowance;  he  does  not; 
how  does  another  pay  for  dress  or  luxurj-?  They 
torment  themselves  and  each  other  with  questions 
like  these.  The  Emperor,  with  all  the  malice  of  a 
testator,  encourages  these  surmises.  I  have  no  one, 
he  says,  to  leave  my  money  to,  but  my  companions. 
And  this  question  of  money  has  much  to  do  with 
Gourgaud's  furious  jealousies.  He  is  alwa^'s  mount- 
ing on  a  pinnacle  whence  he  declares  that  he  will  take 
nothing  from  the  Emperor ;  but  he  is  alwaj's  descend- 
ing and  accepting  it.  Through  a  whole  volume 
there  run  the  narrative  and  variations  of  his  mother's 
pension.  Gourgaud  will  not  ask  for  one ;  he  does  ask 
D  49 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

for  one;  he  will  not  take  it;  he  will  take  it;  and  so 
forth,  until  the  reader  is  left  wondering  whether 
Gourgaud's  mother,  through  all  these  susceptibili- 
ties and  delicacies,  constantly  aroused  and  constant- 
ly overcome,  ever  secured  anything  at  all.  In  any 
case,  she  and  her  pension  became  a  nightmare  to  Na- 
poleon, who  was  irritated  by  so  much  filial  solicitude 
for  the  mother  whom  his  follower  had  left  behind  in 
France.  Gourgaud  did,  indeed,  air  this  devotion  a 
little  too  often,  and  this  irritated  the  Emperor.  In 
the  first  place.  Napoleon  suspected,  we  think,  and 
perhaps  not  unjustly,  that  the  frequent  mention  of 
the  mother  and  of  her  needy  circumstances  was  meant 
as  an  appeal  for  his  assistance,  which  he  was  willing 
to  give,  but  not  under  pressure;  so  he  gave  it  at  last, 
irritably  and  ungraciously.  Secondly,  this  good 
son  caused  some  inconvenience  by  painting  rose- 
color  everything  at  St.  Helena  in  order  to  cheer  his 
parent.  His  letters  of  this  deceptive  character  were 
read  by  Lowe,  or  by  Bathurst,  or  both,  and  gave  them 
the  most  sensible  pleasure,  as  affording  an  authori- 
tative contradiction  to  Napoleon's  complaints.  Bath- 
urst and  Lowe  henceforward  cherished  a  sort  of  affec- 
tion for  Gourgaud,  This  fact,  and  these  dutifully 
mendacious  letters,  could  not  be  agreeable  to  Napo- 
leon. Thirdly,  the  Emperor  could  not  bear  that  any 
one  who  was  devoted  to  him  should  be  devoted  to 
any  one  else.  He  required  a  sole  and  absorbing  alle- 
giance. Bertrand's  wife  and  Gourgaud's  mother 
offended  him.  "You  are  mad  to  love  your  mother 
so,"  said  Napoleon  to  Gourgaud.  "  How  old  is  she?" 
"Sixty-seven,  sire."  "Well,  you  will  never  see  her 
again*;  she  will  be  dead  before  you  return  to  France. " 
Gourgaud  weeps. 

50 


GOURGAUD 

But  Napoleon's  brutality  was  only  a  passing  ex- 
pression of  annoyance  at  a  devotion  which  he  con- 
sidered he  should  absorb.  Napoleon  made  no  secret 
of  this;  he  avowed  it  to  Montholon.  "Every  one," 
he  says,  "has  a  dominant  object  of  affection,  and 
to  those  whom  I  like  and  honor  with  my  confidence, 
I  must  be  that  object;  I  will  share  with  nobody," 
On  other  occasions  he  was  even  more  cynical: 
"Princes,"  he  said,  "only  like  those  who  are  useful 
to  them,  and  so  long  as  they  are  useful."  Again,  he 
says  to  Gourgaud:  "After  all,  I  only  care  for  peo- 
ple who  are  useful  to  me,  and  so  long  as  they  are  use- 
ful." His  followers  were  well  aware  of  this  princi- 
ple in  Napoleon.  Bertrand  in  a  moment  of  irritation 
confides  to  Gourgaud  the  astonishing  discovery  that 
for  some  time  past  he  has  been  aware  that  the  Em- 
peror is  an  egotist.  "  He  only,"  says  Bertrand,  "  cares 
for  those  from  whom  he  expects  some  service."  An- 
other day  he  goes  further.  "The  Emperor  is  what 
he  is,  my  dear  Gourgaud;  we  cannot  change  his 
character.  It  is  because  of  that  character  that  he 
has  no  friends,  that  he  has  so  many  enemies,  and, 
indeed,  that  we  are  at  St.  Helena.  And  it  is  for  the 
same  reason  that  neither  Drouot  nor  the  others  who 
were  at  Elba,  except  ourselves  (Mme.  Bertrand  and 
himself),  would  follow  him  here."  Bertrand  was  no 
doubt  right  in  saying  that  Napoleon  had  no  friends, 
for  the  friends  of  his  youth  were  dead;  and,  in  the 
days  of  his  power,  he  had  denied  himself  that  solace 
and  strength.  "  I  have  made  courtiers ;  I  have  never 
pretended  to  make  friends,"  he  would  say.  His  im- 
perial ideas  of  state  and  aloofness,  indeed,  made  any 
idea  of  friendship  impossible.  Now  the  retribution 
had  come;  when  he  wanted  friends,  he  found  only 

51 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

courtiers.  Painfully  and  laboriously  he  endeavored 
to  resume  the  forgotten  art  of  making  friends.  It 
was  only  fair,  and  in  the  nature  of  things,  that  he 
should  be  but  partially  successful. 

It  is  not  a  pleasant  trait  in  Napoleon  that  he  should 
expect  the  blind  renunciation  of  every  human  tie  and 
human  interest  that  a  Messiah  alone  may  exact; 
that  he  should  desire  his  followers  to  leave  all  and 
follow  him.  But  much  excuse  must  be  made  for  an 
egotism  which  was  the  inevitable  result  of  the  pro- 
longed adulation  of  the  world. 

And  although  Gourgaud  had  much  to  bear — 
chiefly  from  the  torture  he  inflicted  on  himself — 
we  gather  from  his  own  Account  that  the  balance  is 
largely  in  his  favor,  and  that  he  made  his  compan- 
ions suffer  much  more.  Of  all  these,  Napoleon,  if  he 
may  be  called  a  companion,  had  by  far  the  most  to 
endure. 

For,  as  we  have  said,  the  real  value  of  Gourgaud's 
book  does  not  lie  in  the  portraiture,  interesting  though 
it  be,  of  himself.  What  is  profoundly  interesting  is 
the  new  and  original  view  that  it  afforded  of  Napo- 
leon's own  character,  and  the  faithful  notes  of  Napo- 
leon's conversation  in  its  naked  strength.  We  dwell 
on  Gourgaud,  not  for  the  sake  of  Gourgaud,  but  for 
the  sake  of  Napoleon.  Napoleon  is  the  figure ;  Gour- 
gaud is  the  foil. 

We  all  are  apt  to  fancy  that  we  thoroughly  under- 
stand Napoleon's  disposition  :  selfish,  domineering, 
violent,  and  so  forth.  But  in  this  book  we  see  a  new 
Napoleon,  strange,  and  contrary  to  our  ideas  :  a  Na- 
poleon such  as  few  but  Rapp  have  hitherto  presented 
to  us.  Rapp,  indeed,  the  most  independent  and  un- 
flattering of  all  Napoleon's  generals,  and  who,  as  his 

52 


GOURGAUD 

aide  de-camp,  was  constantly  by  his  side,  says  of  his 
master:  "Many  people  describe  Napoleon  as  a 
harsh,  violent,  passionate  man.  It  is  because  they 
never  knew  him.  Absorbed  as  he  was  in  affairs, 
opposed  in  his  plans,  hampered  in  his  projects,  his 
humor  was  sometimes  impatient  and  fluctuating. 
But  he  was  so  good  and  so  generous  that  he  was  soon 
appeased,  though  the  confidants  of  his  cares,  far 
from  appeasing,  would  endeavor  to  excite  his  anger." 
The  austere  and  upright  Drouot  constantly  averred 
when  at  Elba  that  the  Emperor's  anger  was  only  skin- 
deep.  "I  always  found  him,"  says  his  private  sec- 
retary, "kind,  patient,  indulgent."  Testimonies  of 
this  kind  might  be  multiplied  from  more  dubious 
sources.  But  Gourgaud  was  certainly  one  of  the 
confidants  described  by  Rapp.  He  unconsciously 
depicts  himself  as  petulant,  sulky,  and  captious  to 
the  last  degree;  while  we  see  Napoleon  gentle,  pa- 
tient, good-tempered,  trying  to  soothe  his  touchy  and 
morbid  attendant  with  something  like  the  tenderness 
of  a  parent  for  a  wayward  child.  Once,  indeed,  he 
calls  Gourgaud  a  child.  Gourgaud  is  furious.  "  Me 
a  child !  I  shall  soon  be  thirty-four.  I  have  eighteen 
years  of  service ;  I  have  been  in  thirteen  campaigns  ; 
I  have  received  three  wounds!  And  then  to  be 
treated  like  this!  Calling  me  a  child  is  calling  me 
a  fool."  All  this  he  pours  forth  on  the  Emperor  in 
an  angry  torrent. 

The  Napoleon  of  our  preconceptions  would  have 
ordered  a  subordinate  who  talked  to  him  like  this  out 
of  the  room  before  he  had  finished  a  sentence.  What 
does  this  Napoleon  do?  Let  us  hear  Gourgaud  him- 
self. "  In  short,  I  am  very  angry.  The  Emperor 
seeks  to  calm  me;  I  remain  silent;  we  pass  to  the 

53 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

drawing-room.  His  Majesty  wishes  to  play  chess, 
but  places  the  pieces  all  awry.  He  speaks  to  me 
gently:  'I  know  you  have  commanded  troops  and 
batteries,  but  you  are,  after  all,  very  young.'  I  only 
reply  by  a  gloomy  silence. ''  The  insulting  charge  of 
youth  is  more  than  Gourgaud  can  bear.  This  is  our 
Gourgaud  as  we  come  to  know  him.  But  is  this  the 
Napoleon  that  we  have  learned?  Not  menacing  or 
crushing  his  sullen  and  rebellious  equerry,  but  trying 
to  soothe,  to  assuage,  to  persuade. 

There  was  no  one  at  St.  Helena  who  had  more  to 
endure  and  more  to  try  him  than  the  Emperor,  no 
one  whose  life  had  been  less  trained  to  patience  and 
forbearance;  but  we  rise  from  the  study  of  Gour- 
gaud's  volumes  with  the  conviction  that  few  men 
would  have  borne  so  patiently  w4th  so  irritating  an 
attendant.  Sometimes  he  is  so  moved  as  to  speak 
openly  of  the  disparity  of  their  burdens.  Gourgaud 
speaks  of  his  "chagrin."  The  Emperor  turns  upon 
him,  with  pathetic  truth:  "You  speak  of  sorrow, 
you !  And  I !  What  sorrows  have  I  not  had !  What 
things  to  reproach  myself  with!  You,  at  any  rate, 
have  nothing  to  regret.''  And  again:  "Do  you 
suppose  that  when  I  wake  at  night  I  have  not  bad 
moments — when  I  think  of  what  I  was,  and  what  I 
am?" 

On  another  occasion  Napoleon  proposes  a  remedy, 
or  a  sedative,  for  Gourgaud's  ill-humor — unique, 
perhaps,  among  moral  or  intellectual  prescriptions. 
He  suggests  that  the  general  shall  set  himself  to 
translate  the  Annual  Register  into  French:  "You 
should  translate  the  Annual  Register;  it  would  give 
you  an  immense  reputation."  To  which  the  hapless 
Gourgaud  replies:  "Sire,  this  journal  has  no  doubt 

54 


GOURGAUD 

merits,  but,"  and  so  deprecates  the  glorious  task. 
This,  seems  to  us  one  of  the  few  humorous  incidents  in 
the  annals  of  the  captivity.  Sometimes  the  Emperor 
builds  castles  in  the  air  to  cheer  his  sulky  follower. 
In  England,  "where  we  shall  be  in  a  year/'  he  will 
find  a  bride  in  the  city  for  Gourgaud  with  a  fortune 
of,  say,  £30,000;  he  will  visit  the  happy  couple  and 
enjoy  fox-hunting.  For  the  meditations  of  the  Em- 
peror constantly  turn  to  a  suitable  marriage  for 
Gourgaud — sometimes  English,  sometimes  French, 
sometimes  Corsican,  but  always  with  an  adequate 
dowry. 

The  revelation  of  this  book  is,  we  repeat,  the  for- 
bearance and  long-suffering  of  Napoleon.  The  in- 
stances of  Gourgaud's  petulance  and  insolence  are 
innumerable.  One  day  the  Emperor  orders  him  to 
copy  a  letter  on  the  subject  of  his  grievances,  which 
was  to  be  launched  above  the  signature  of  Montho- 
lon.  "I  am  not  the  copyist  of  M.  de  Montholon," 
replies  Gourgaud.  The  Emperor  truly  says  that  he 
is  wanting  in  respect,  and  he  has  the  grace  to  ac- 
knowledge that  he  is  uneasy  all  night.  Then,  when 
Las  Cases  goes,  the  Emperor  writes  him  a  letter  too 
warm  for  Gourgaud's  taste.  Irritated  by  Gourgaud's 
criticism  and  sulks.  Napoleon  signs  it  votre  d4vou4. 
Then  Gourgaud  breaks  out.  The  Emperor  invites 
him  to  play  chess,  and  asks  why  he  is  so  out  of 
temper.  "Sire,  I  have  one  great  fault;  I  am  too 
much  attached  to  Your  Majesty;  I  am  not  jealous, 
but  I  feel  bound  to  say  that  this  letter  is  not  worthy 
of  you.  Good  God!  I  see  that  my  poor  father  was 
too  honest  a  man.  lie  brought  me  up  in  much  too 
strict  principles  of  honor  and  virtue.  I  know  now 
that  one  should  never  tell  the  truth  to  sovereigns, 

55 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

and  that  flatterers  and  schemers  are  those  who  suc- 
ceed with  them.  Your  Majesty  will  come  to  under- 
stand some  day  what  a  hypocrite  is  this  man." 
Napoleon  replies,  half  Wearily,  half  pathetically, 
"What  do  you  mean — that  he  betrays  me?  After 
all,  Berthier,  Marmont,  and  the  rest  on  whom  I  have 
heaped  benefits,  have  all  done  it.  Mankind  must  be 
very  bad  to  be  as  bad  as  I  consider  it." 

This  scene  rankles,  and  leaves  Gourgaud  for  a 
long  time  in  so  diabolical  a  mood  that  the  Emperor 
is  forced  from  mere  weariness  of  these  outbursts  of 
temper  to  confine  himself  to  his  room.  When  Gour- 
gaud hears  this,  he  immediately,  by  way  of  allaying 
the  strain  on  their  common  life,  challenges  Mon- 
tholon.  Things  get  worse  and  worse,  until  Gour- 
gaud remonstrates  with  the  Emperor  on  the  double 
allowance  that  he  gives  Montholon.  Napoleon  points 
out  that  Montholon  has  a  wife  and  family,  which 
Gourgaud  has  not.  Still  Gourgaud  grumbles.  At 
last  Napoleon  loses  patience,  and  says  frankly  that 
he  prefers  Montholon  to  Gourgaud.  Then,  indeed, 
there  is  an  explosion.  Gourgaud  is  choked  with 
tears,  says  that  all  the  generals  who  have  distin- 
guished him  must  have  been  mistaken,  and  so  forth. 
Not  at  all,  replies  the  Emperor ;  they  saw  you  on  the 
field  of  battle,  brave  and  active — they  did  not,  he 
implies,  see  you  as  you  are  now.  All  that  the  reader 
can  gather  from  Gourgaud's  own  record  is  that  it  is 
scarcely  possible  that  Montholon  should  have  been 
so  disagreeable  as  not  to  be  a  preferable  companion 
to  Gourgaud.  And  so  the  incessant  and  wearisome 
scenes  go  on — the  Emperor  patient  and  friendly; 
the  aide-de-camp  fretful,  sullen,  even  insulting.  One 
day,  for  example,  he  says:  "Yes,  sire,  provided  that 

56 


GOURGAUD 

history  does  not  say  that  France  was  very  great  be- 
fore Napoleon,  but  partitioned  after  him."  Even 
this  taunt  does  not  ruffle  his  master.  Another  time, 
after  a  tiresome  wrangle,  the  Emperor  tells  him  good- 
humoredly  to  go  to  bed  and  calm  himself.  To  which 
Gourgaud  replies  that  if  he  had  not  more  philosophy 
and  strength  of  mind  than  Napoleon  he  would  not  be 
able  to  get  through  the  night.  A  few  weeks  after  this 
remarkable  statement  our  diarist  shows  his  philos- 
ophy and  strength  of  mind  by  informing  Bertrand 
that  his  patience  is  at  an  end,  and  that  he  must  box 
Montholon's  ears. 

On  another  occasion  Napoleon  utters  a  few  gloomy 
words.  "I,"  he  said,  "though  I  have  long  years  of 
life  before  me,  am  already  dead.  What  a  position ! " 
"Yes,  sire,"  says  Gourgaud,  with  patronizing  can- 
dor, "  it  is  indeed  horrible.  It  would  have  been  better 
to  die  before  coming  here.  But  as  one  is  here,  one 
should  have  the  courage  to  support  the  situation. 
It  would  be  so  ignominious  to  die  at  St.  Helena/* 
The  Emperor,  in  reply,  merely  sends  for  Bertrand  as 
a  more  agreeable  companion.  On  yet  another  day 
the  Emperor  groans,  "What  weariness!  What  a 
cross !  "  Gourgaud  is  at  once  ready  with  his  superior 
compassion.  "It  pains  me — me,  Gourgaud — to  see 
the  man  who  commanded  Europe  brought  to  this." 
But  on  this  occasion  he  keeps  his  pity  for  his  journal. 

This  all  seems  incredible  to  us,  with  our  precon- 
ceived opinion  of  Napoleon,  and  as  our  business  is 
with  him,  we  only  make  these  quotations  to  show 
the  incessant  irritations  and  annoyances  to  which  he 
was  exposed  on  the  part  of  his  own  friends,  and  the 
unexpected  gentleness  and  patience  with  which  he 
bore  them. 

57 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

His  companions,  indeed,  were  not  of  very  much 
comfort  to  him;  Bertrand  was  much  absorbed  by  his 
wife ;  Montholon  was  neither  very  able  nor  very  trust- 
worthy ;  Las  Cases,  who  was  an  adroit  and  intelHgent 
talker,  was  a  firebrand  to  the  jealousies  of  the  others ; 
Gourgaud  was  almost  intolerable.  Napoleon  had  to 
make  the  best  of  them,  to  soothe  them,  to  cheer  them, 
to  pay  visits  to  Mme.  Bertrand,  and  to  make  pres- 
ents to  Mme.  de  Montholon,  to  try  ^nd  put  Gour- 
gaud to  some  mathematical  and  historical  work 
which  would  occupy  his  mind.  Or  else  the  Emperor 
tries  almost  humbly  to  put  Gourgaud  into  a  better 
humor.  Six  weeks  before  the  final  crisis  he  comes 
beside  his  sulky  follower,  and,  as  this  last  himself 
admits,  exerts  himself  to  make  himself  agreeable  to 
Gourgaud.  He  pinches  his  ear — the  well-known  sign 
of  his  affection  and  good-humor.  "Why  are  you 
so  sad?  What  is  the  matter  with  you?  Pluck  up 
and  be  gay,  Gorgo,  Gorgotto;  we  will  set  about  a 
book  together,  my  son,  Gorgo."  "Gorgo,  Gorgotto," 
does  not  record  his  reception  of  these  advances.  Next 
day,  however,  there  is  the  same  half-piteous  appeal : 
"Gorgo,  Gorgotto,  my  son." 

Sometimes,  no  doubt,  Gourgaud  records  that  the 
Emperor  is,  or  appears  to  be,  cold  or  in  a  bad  temper. 
But  this  can  generally  be  traced  to  some  absorbing 
news,  or  to  some  behavior  or  to  some  allusion  of  the 
chronicler  himself.  Moreover,  these  occasions  are 
rare,  and  we  gather  them  only  from  Gourgaud's  ma- 
lign impressions,  not  from  any  proof  of  the  Emper- 
or's anger.  Once  in  these  last  days  there  is  a  mis- 
understanding, notable  only  as  showing  Gourgaud's 
anxiety  to  misunderstand.  I  shall  die,  says  Napo- 
leon, and  you  will  go  away:  " vous  vous  en  irez" 

58 


GOURGAUD 

(you  will  go  away.)  The  general  thinks  he  hears 
"vous  vous  en  rirez"  (you  will  laugh  at  it),  and 
sees  a  halcyon  opportunity  for  righteous  wrath.  "  Al- 
though Your  Majesty  is  habitually  harsh  to  me,  this 
is  too  much.  I  trust  you  do  not  mean  what  you  are 
saying."  Then  there  is  an  explanation,  and  the 
ruffled  plumes  are  momentarily  smoothed.  So  pro- 
ceeds this  one-sided,  cat-and-dog  life.  Everything 
that  Napoleon  says  and  does  is  a  grievance.  When 
Las  Cases  has  gone,  the  Montholons  lurk  behind 
everything ;  they  are  the  root  of  all  evil.  Nothing 
can  be  more  wearisome,  more  irritating,  than  this 
wrong-headed  record.  So  the  reader  welcomes  the 
inevitable  catastrophe.  After  one  of  these  scenes, 
in  which,  on  Gourgaud's  own  showing,  he  is  entirely 
in  the  wrong,  he  begs  Bertrand  to  "  organize  his  de- 
parture." But  still  he  delays.  Before  he  goes  he 
must  challenge  Montholon,  and  Mme.  de  Mon- 
tholon  is  so  near  her  confinement  that  he  fears  to 
agitate  her.  Within  a  week,  however,  of  the  request 
to  Bertrand  the  child  is  born.  That  very  day  Gour- 
gaud  declares  to  Bertrand  that  the  moment  has  come 
to  challenge  Monlholon.  Nine  3'ears  has  he  been 
with  the  Emperor  (here  follows  the  inevitable  record 
of  his  services),  and  he  is  to  be  sacrificed  to  the  Mon- 
tholons. "Ah,  marshal,  the  Emperor  has  been  a 
great  general,  but  what  a  hard  heart ! "  Still  he  waits 
a  week.  Then  he  has  an  interview  with  Napoleon, 
and  declares  his  deadly  intentions.  "Behold  my 
hair,  which  I  have  not  cut  for  months,  nor  will  cut 
until  I  am  revenged."  The  Emi^eror  saj's  that  he  is 
a  brigand,  nay,  an  assassin,  if  he  menaces  Montho- 
lon, but  that  Montholon  will  kill  him.  So  much  the 
better,  says  Gourgaud ;  it  is  better  to  die  with  honor 

59 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

than  to  live  with  shame.  What  do  you  want?  asks 
Napoleon;  to  take  precedence  of  Montholon,  to  see 
me  twice  a  day — what  is  it?  Gourgaud  sullenly 
replies  that  a  brigand  and  assassin  can  ask  nothing. 
Then  the  Emperor  apologizes  and  begs  him  to  forget 
those  expressions.  Gourgaud  is  mollified,  consents 
to  refrain  from  a  challenge,  if  Napoleon  gives  him  a 
written  order  to  that  effect,  but,  in  a  confused  narra- 
tive, explains  that  he  is  resolved  on  leaving  St.  Helena. 
The  obscurity  is  probably  due  to  the  fact,  which  we 
have  already  discussed,  that  the  motives  for  his  de- 
parture were  mixed.  It  was  impossible  for  him  to 
continue  on  his  present  footing ;  he  had  become  irk- 
some to  the  Emperor,  and  the  Emperor  a  torture  to 
him;  and  yet,  though  leaving  on  these  terms,  and 
for  these  causes,  he  was  to  be  an  agent  for  the  Em- 
peror in  Europe.  We  discern  obscurely  through  the 
perplexed  paragraphs  that  it  is  feared  he  may  be 
suspected  of  being  sent  on  a  mission;  that  he  must 
leave  on  grounds  of  ill -health,  and  with  certificates 
of  illness  from  O'Meara.  Napoleon  bids  him  farewell. 
"It  is  the  last  time  we  shall  see  each  other."  They 
are  destined,  however,  to  meet  again.  As  Gourgaud 
does  not  receive  the  written  order,  he  calls  out  Mon- 
tholon.  With  his  usual  unconsciousness  of  humor, 
he  sends  with  the  challenge  a  gun  and  six  louis  which 
he  had  borrowed  of  his  enemy.  Montholon  replies 
that  he  has  given  his  word  of  honor  to  his  master 
not  to  fight  under  present  circumstances.  Then 
Gourgaud  doubles  back  again.  The  strange  creat- 
ure goes  to  Lowe,  of  all  people,  and  asks  his  ad- 
vice. Lowe  says  that  some  will  think  that  the 
general  is  leaving  because  he  is  bored,  some  because 
he  has  a  mission.     Thereupon  Gourgaud  begs  to  be 

60 


GOURGAUD 

treated  with  extreme  rigor,  and  returns  to  Longwood 
to  write  a  letter  to  Napoleon,  asking  leave  to  retire 
on  the  ground  of  illness.  The  Emperor  grants  per- 
mission, regretting,  with  imperturbable  gravity,  that 
the  liver  complaint,  indigenous  to  the  island  (and 
with  which,  for  obvious  reasons,  he  was  always  de- 
termined to  credit  himself),  should  have  made  an- 
other victim.  He  receives  Gourgaud  once  more. 
This  last  records,  though,  it  may  be  presumed,  very 
incompletely,  what  passes.  The  Emperor  bids  him 
see  Princess  Charlotte,  on  whose  favor  he  reckoned. 
It  may  be  noted,  as  a  fair  example  of  the  difficulties 
that  beset  the  seeker  for  truth  in  St.  Helena,  that 
Napoleon,  when  he  is  reported  as  saying  this,  had 
known  for  several  days  that  she  was  dead.  He 
prophetically  sees  Gourgaud  commanding  French 
artillery  against  the  English.  "  Tell  them  in  France 
that  I  hate  those  scoundrels,  those  wretches,  as  cor- 
dially as  ever."  (This  was  a  gloss  on  the  instruc- 
tions he  had  dictated  the  day  before,  when  he  de- 
clared :  "1  have  always  highly  esteemed  the  English 
people,  and,  in  spite  of  the  martyrdom  imposed  on 
me  by  their  ministers,  my  esteem  for  them  remains.") 
He  gives  the  parting  guest  a  friendly  tap  on  the 
cheek.  "Good-bye;  we  shall  see  each  other  in  an- 
other world— embrace  me."  Gourgaud  embraces 
him  with  tears,  and  so  ends  this  strange,  unhappy 
connection.  From  another  source  we  discover  that 
the  day  before  this  farewell  interview,  the  Emperor 
dictated  to  Montholon  a  long  appeal  to  the  Emperor 
of  Russia,  probably  for  the  use  of  Gourgaud.  To 
this  document  we  shall  return  later.  Napoleon  also 
gave  definite  instructions  to  Gourgaud  as  to  his 
course  on  arriving  in  Europe.    The  general  was  to 

6i 


NAPOLEON:   THE  LAST  PHASE 

convey  certain  notes  in  the  soles  of  his  shoes :  he  was 
to  take  some  of  the  Emperor's  hair  to  Marie  Louise. 
There  is  nothing  striking  or  p>articularly  confidential 
in  this  paper.  What  was  secret  was  probably  oral. 
But  to  return  to  St.  Helena.  There  was,  of  course, 
the  inevitable  question  of  money — the  usual  offer  and 
the  usual  refusal,  the  usual  vagueness  as  to  the  ulti- 
mate result.  Then  Gourgaud  goes  forth  among  the 
Gentiles;  stays  with  Jackson,  dines  with  Lowe  and 
the  commissioners,  abuses  Napoleon,  communicates 
cock-and-bull  revelations,  overacts  his  part.  Mean- 
while, we  learn  fi:om  Montholon  that  he  is  all  the 
time  secretly  communicating  to  Longwood  the  result 
of  his  conversations  with  Sturmer  and  Balmain. 
After  a  month  of  this  sort  of  life  he  sails  away,  with 
the  benedictions  of  his  new  friends,  with  letters  of 
introduction  from  Montchenu,with  a  substantial  loan 
from  Lowe  in  his  pocket,  and  with  secret  communi- 
cations from  Napoleon  in  the  soles  of  his  boots.  A 
characteristic  ending  to  his  tormented  exile. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  DEPORTATION 

Were  it  possible,  we  would  ignore  all  this  litera- 
ture, as  it  is  peculiarly  painful  for  an  Englishman  to 
read.  He  must  regret  that  his  government  ever  un- 
dertook the  custod}^  of  Napoleon,  and  he  must  regret 
still  more  that  the  duty  should  have  been  discharged 
in  a  spirit  so  ignoble  and  through  agents  so  unfor- 
tunate. If  St.  Helena  recalls  painful  memories  to 
the  French,  much  more  poignant  are  those  that  it 
excites  among  ourselves. 

In  these  days  we  are  not  perhaps  fair  judges  of 
the  situation,  as  it  presented  itself  to  the  British  gov- 
ernment. They  were  at  the  head  of  a  coalition  which 
had  twice  succeeded  in  overthrowing  Na|X)leon.  It 
had  cost  Great  Britain,  according  to  the  spacious 
figures  of  statistical  dictionaries,  more  than  eight 
hundred  millions  sterling  to  effect  Napoleon's  re- 
moval to  Elba.  His  return  had  cost  them  millions 
more,  besides  a  hideous  shock  to  the  nervous  system 
of  nations.  What  all  this  had  cost  in  human  life 
can  never  perhaps  be  fairly  estimated ;  not  less  than 
two  millions  of  lives.  The  first  main  object,  then, 
of  the  allies — a  duty  to  their  own  people,  who  had 
sacrificed  so  much — was  to  make  it  absolutely  cer- 
tain that  Napoleon  should  nevermore  escai)e.  Our 
own  view  is  that  under  no  circumstances  could  Na- 

63 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

poleon  have  ever  again  conquered  Europe;  his  en- 
ergies were  exhausted,  and  so  was  France  for  his 
Ufetime.  But  the  alhes  could  not  know  this;  they 
would  have  been  censurable  had  they  taken  such  a 
view  into  consideration,  and  in  any  case  Napoleon, 
well  or  ill,  active  or  inactive,  if  at  large,  would  have 
been  a  formidable  rallying  point  for  the  revolution- 
ary forces  of  Europe. 

We  may,  then,  consider  it  as  admitted  and  estab- 
lished that  Napoleon  could  never  again  be  a  free 
agent.  It  was  hard  for  him,  but  he  had  been  hard 
on  the  world.  And  in  a  sense  it  was  the  greatest 
compliment  that  could  be  paid  him. 

Napoleon  surrendered  himself  to  Great  Britain, 
and  the  allies  desired  that  Great  Britain  should  be 
answerable  for  him.  In  what  spirit  did  our  gov- 
ernment accept  this  charge?  "We  wish,"  writes 
Lord  Liverpool,  Prime  Minister,  to  Lord  Castlereagh, 
Foreign  Secretary,  — "  We  wish  that  the  King  of 
France  would  hang  or  shoot  Bonaparte,  as  the  best 
termination  of  the  business.''  To  make  his  case  clear 
he  put  it  thus  to  Eldon:  Napoleon  "must  then  re- 
vert either  to  his  original  character  of  a  French  sub- 
ject, or  he  had  no  character  at  all,  and  headed  his 
expedition  as  an  outlaw  and  an  outcast — hostis  hu- 
mani  generis."  The  option,  as  it  presented  itself, 
apparently,  'to  Lord  Liverpool  at  that  time,  was  that 
Napoleon  might  either  be  handed  to  Louis  XVIII.  as 
a  subject  to  be  treated  as  a  rebel,  or  might  be  placed 
outside  the  pale  of  humanity  and  treated  as  vermin. 
Again  he  writes  regretfully  to  Castlereagh  that  "if 
.  .  .  the  King  of  France  does  not  feel  himself  suf- 
ficiently strong  to  treat  him  as  a  rebel,  we  are  reajdy 
to  take  upon  ourselves  the  custody  of  his  person/' 

64 


THE   DEPORTATION 

and  so  forth.    Sir  Walter  Scott  admits  that  in  1816 
a  considerable  party  in  Britain  still  considered  that 
Napoleon  should  have  been  handed  over  to  Louis 
XVIII.  to  be  dealt  with  as  a  rebel  subject     Fortu- 
nately, though  no  thanks  10  our  ministers,  we  are 
spared  the  memory  of  their  having  handed  over  Na- 
poleon to  the  French  government  to  be  shot  like  Ney. 
We  see,  then,  that  there  was  not  the  slightest  hope 
of  our  government  behaving  with  any  sort  of  mag- 
nanimity in  the  matter;  though  a  British  prince, 
the  Duke  of  Sussex,  in  combination  with  Lord  Hol- 
land, recorded  his  public  protest  against  the  course 
which  was  pursued.     Napoleon,  who  had  thought  of 
Themistocles,  and  afterwards  thought  of  Hannibal, 
had  appealed,  with  not  perhaps  so  much  confidence 
as  he  professed,  to  the  hospitality  of  Great  Britain. 
He  had  hoped,  under  the  name  of  Colonel  Muiron, 
an  early  friend  who  had  been  killed  by  his  side, 
while  shielding  his  body,  at  Areola,  and  for  whose 
memory  he  had  a  peculiar  tenderness,  to  live  as  an 
English  country  gentleman.    This,  we  think,  though 
we  say  so  with  regret,  was  impossible.     England  was 
too  near  France  for  such  a  solution.    The  throne 
'of  the  Bourbons,  which  had  become,  for  some  mys- 
terious reason,  a  pivot  of  our  policy,  could  never 
have  been  safe,  were  it  generally  known  that  some 
score  of  miles  from  the  French  coast   there  was 
a  middle-aged  French  colonel  who  had  been  Napo- 
leon.    Not  all  the  precautions  that  enclosed  Danafi 
could  have  prevented  commiseration  and  solicitation 
to  so  potent  a  neighbor.     Napoleon  had  been  the 
genius  of  unrest  in  Europe;  the  tradition  and  asso- 
ciation would  have  remained  with  Colonel  Muiron, 
however  respectable  and  domesticated  that  officer 
E  65 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

might  be.  And  Napoleon,  indeed,  blurted  out  the 
truth  at  St.  Helena  in  the  presence  of  his  little  circle. 
He  had  just  received  a  letter  stating  that  there  was  a 
great  change  of  opinion  in  France.  "Ah!"  he  ex- 
claims, "were  we  but  in  England."  Moreover,  he 
would  have  been  the  innocent  object  of  all  sorts  of 
legal  questions,  which  would  have  tormented  the 
government.  As  it  was.  Admiral  Lord  Keith  was 
chased  round  his  own  fleet  through  an  entire  day  by 
a  lawyer  with  a  writ,  on  account  of  Napoleon. 

Lastly,  and  we  suspect  that  this  weighed  most 
with  our  rulers,  he  would  have  become  the  centre  of 
much  sympathy,  and  even  admiration,  in  England 
itself.  For  Great  Britain,  though  victorious,  was  by 
no  means  contented.  When  we  recall  her  internal 
history  from  Waterloo  till  Napoleon's  death,  we  can 
well  understand  that  the  presence  within  her  United 
Kingdoms  of  the  triumphant  child  of  the  revolution 
would  not  have  been  considered  by  the  Tory  ministry 
as  a  strength  or  support  to  their  government.  "  You 
know  enough,"  writes  Liverpool  to  Castlereagh,  "of 
the  feelings  of  people  in  this  country  not  to  doubt 
that  he  would  become  an  object  of  curiosity  immedi- 
ately, and  possibly  of  compassion  in  the  course  of  a 
few  months."  The  innumerable  visitors  who  flocked 
to  see  him  at  Plymouth  confirmed  the  prescience  of 
our  premier.  There  was  indeed  an  extraordinary 
glamour  about  the  fallen  monarch,  of  which  he  him- 
self was  quite  aware.  He  said  with  confidence  at 
St.  Helena  that  had  he  gone  to  England  he  would 
have  conquered  the  hearts  of  the  English.  He  fas- 
cinated Maitland,  who  took  him  to  England,  as  he 
had  fascinated  Ussher,  who  had  conducted  him  to 
Elba.     Maitland  caused  inquiries  to  be  made,  after 

66 


THE   DEPORTATION 

Napoleon  had  left  the  Bellerophon,  as  to  the  feelings 
of  the  crew,  and  received  as  the  result :  "  Well,  they 
may  abuse  that  man  as  much  as  they  please;  but  if 
the  people  of  England  knew  him  as  well  as  we  do, 
they  would  not  touch  a  hair  of  his  head."  When  he 
left  the  Northumberland,  the  crew  were  much  of  the 
same  opinion:  "He  is  a  fine  fellow,  who  does  not 
deserve  his  fate."  The  crew  which  brought  Mont- 
chenu  held  similar  views.  When  he  had  left  the 
Undaunted,  which  conveyed  him  to  Elba,  the  boat- 
swain, on  behalf  of  the  ship's  company,  had  wished 
him  "  long  life  and  prosperity  in  the  island  of  Elba, 
and  better  luck  another  time. "  After  two  short  meet- 
ings, both  Hotham,  the  admiral,  and  Senhouse,  the 
flag-captain,  felt  all  their  prejudices  evaporate.  "  The 
admiral  and  myself,"  writes  Senhouse,  "have  both 
discovered  that  our  inveteracy  has  oozed  out  like  the 
courage  of  Acres  in  The  Rivals."  There  was  a 
more  sublime  peril  yet.  "Damn  the  fellow!"  said 
Lord  Keith,  after  seeing  him,  "  if  he  had  obtained  an 
interview  w4th  His  Royal  Highness  (the  Prince  Re- 
gent), in  half  an  hour  they  would  have  been  the 
best  friends  in  England."  Napoleon  was  ultimate- 
ly made  aware  of  the  danger  that  was  apprehended 
from  his  living  in  England.  A  traveller  had  told 
him  that  the  British  government  could  not  suffer 
him  there  lest  the  rioters  should  place  him  at  their 
head.  Another  had  told  him  that  he  had  heard 
Lords  Liverpool  and  Castlereagh  say  that  their  main 
reason  for  sending  him  to  St.  Helena  was  their  fear 
of  his  caballing  with  the  opposition.  It  is  unnec- 
essary to  expand.  Napoleon  in  England  would  have 
been  a  danger  to  the  governments  both  of  France  and 
of  Britain. 

67 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

On  the  Continent  of  Europe  he  could  only  have  lived 
in  a  fortress.  In  some  countries  he  would  have  been  a 
volcano;  in  others  he  could  scarcely  have  escaped  out- 
rage or  assassination.  In  the  United  States  he  would 
have  been  outside  the  control  of  those  powers  which 
had  the  greatest  interest  in  his  restraint,  and,  in  a 
region  where  a  Burr  had  schemed  for  empire,  a  Na- 
poleon would  have  been  at  least  a  centre  of  disturb- 
ance. Indeed,  he  frankly  admitted  that  had  he  lived 
there  he  would  not  have  confined  himself,  like  Joseph, 
to  building  and  planting,  but  would  have  tried  to 
found  a  state.  Montholon  avers  that,  as  things 
were,  the  crown  of  Mexico  was  offered  to  Napoleon 
at  St.  Helena ;  but  this  we  take  for  what  it  is  worth. 
Under  these  circumstances,  however,  it  was  not  un- 
natural to  select  St.  Helena  as  a  proper  residence  for 
Napoleon.  The  Congress  at  Vienna,  in  1814-15,  had 
had  their  eye  on  the  island  as  a  possible  prison  for 
the  sovereign  of  Elba.  It  was  reputed  to  be  a  tropical 
paradise;  it  was  remote;  it  possessed,  said  Lord  Liv- 
erpool, a  very  fine  residence,  which  Napoleon  might 
inhabit — as  he  might,  indeed,  had  not  Lord  Liver- 
pool sent  instructions  that  he  was  on  no  account  to 
do  so.  The  Duke  of  Wellington,  too,  thought  the 
climate  charming,  but  then  he  had  not  to  go  there; 
and  he  viewed  the  future  of  Napoleon  with  a  robust 
but  not  altruistic  philosophy.  There  was,  moreover, 
only  one  anchorage,  and  that  very  limited;  vessels 
approaching  the  island  could  be  descried  from  an 
incredible  distance,  and  neutral  vessels  could  be 
altogether  excluded. 

The  selection,  we  think,  can  fairly  be  justified, 
though  it  was  a  terrible  shock  to  Napoleon  and  his 
attendants,  who  had  hoped  that  at  the  worst  their 

68 


THE   DEPORTATION 

destination  would  be  Dumbarton  Castle  or  the  Tower 
of  London.  No  good  Frenchman  appears  to  be  long 
happy  outside  France,  and  St.  Helena  seemed  to  be 
the  end  of  the  world.  Napoleon  himself  said  at  first 
that  he  would  not  go  alive.  Eventually  he  recovered 
himself,  and  behaved  with  dignity  and  comix)sure. 
From  the  very  first  he  had  much  to  bear.  Savary 
and  Lallemand  were  forbidden  to  accompany  him, 
and  their  parting  with  him  is  described  by  stolid 
British  witnesses  as  a  scene  of  anguish.  They,  with 
others  of  his  suite,  were  shipped  to  Malta,  and  there 
interned.  He  himself  was  handed  over  to  Cockbum, 
who  seems  to  have  entered  with  relish  into  the  spirit 
of  his  instructions.  Napoleon  was  now  to  be  known 
as  General  Bonaparte,  and  treated  with  the  same 
honors  "as  a  British  general  not  in  employ."  He 
was  soon  made  to  feel  that  a  British  general  not  in 
employ  was  entitled  to  no  peculiar  consideration.  A 
cabin  twelve  feet  by  nine  was  assigned  to  him.  When 
he  attempted  to  use  the  adjacent  room  as  a  private 
study,  he  was  at  once  made  to  understand  that  it  was 
common  to  all  officers.  "  He  received  the  communi- 
cation with  submission  and  good-humor."  When  he 
appeared  on  the  deck  bare-headed,  the  British  officers 
remained  covered.  Why,  indeed,  should  they  show 
courtesy  to  a  half-pay  officer?  Napoleon,  who  had 
never  been  accustomed  to  sit  at  table  more  than  twenty 
minutes,  was  wearied  with  the  protracted  English 
meal,  and  when  he  had  taken  his  coffee  went  on  deck, 
"rather  uncivilly,"  thinks  the  admiral,  and  desires 
every  one  to  remain.  "I  believe  the  general  has 
never  read  Lord  Chesterfield,"  he  remarks.  This 
delicate  irony  was  not  lost  on  Napoleon's  little  court, 
one  of  whom  was  quick  to  retort  with  pertinence  and 

69 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST  PHASE 

effect.  She  might  have  added  that  the  admiral  could 
not  himself  have  read  Lord  Chesterfield  with  any- 
great  attention,  as  the  practice  of  sitting  over  wine  is 
one  that  that  philosopher  especially  reprobates.  "  It 
is  clear/'  notes  the  admiral,  "he  is  still  inclined  to 
act  the  sovereign  occasionally,  but  I  cannot  allow  it." 
Pursuing  this  course  of  discipline,  he  notes,  a  few 
days  later :  "I  did  not  see  much  of  General  Buonaparte 
throughout  this  day,  as,  owing  to  his  appearing  in- 
clined to  try  to  assume  again  improper  consequence,  I 
was  purposely  more  than  usually  distant  with  him." 
A  lion-tamer,  indeed!  We  were  truly  far  removed 
from  the  days  of  the  Black  Prince  and  another  captive 
sovereign  of  France. 

Even  Montchenu,  the  French  commissioner,  whose 
views  as  to  the  proper  treatment  of  Napoleon  were  of 
the  austerest  character,  thinks  that  Cockburn  be- 
haved somewhat  too  cavalierly  to  the  captive.  He 
quotes  Napoleon  as  saying:  "Let  them  put  me  in 
chains  if  they  like,  but  let  them  at  least  treat  me  with 
the  consideration  that  is  due  to  me." 

Cockburn,  from  his  vantage-point  of  native  chiv- 
alry, considers  the  "  nature "  of  Napoleon  as  "  not 
very  polished,"  but  that  he  is  as  civil  as  his  "nature 
seems  capable  of."  So  that  the  admiral,  on  Napo- 
leon's birthday,  unbends  so  far  as  to  drink  his  health, 
"which  civility  he  seemed  to  appreciate."  Later 
again,  Sir  George  states,  with  a  proper  appreciation 
of  their  relative  stations  in  life,  "  I  am  always  ready 
to  meet  him  half-way,  when  he  appears  to  conduct 
himself  with  due  modesty  and  consideration  of  his 
present  situation."  And  at  last,  so  decently  did  he 
comport  himself  that  he  earned  from  the  admiral 
the  tribute  that  "  he  has  throughout  shown  far  less 

70 


THE   DEPORTATION 

impatience  about  the  wind  and  the  weather,  and 
made  less  difficulties,  than  any  of  the  rest  of  the 
party." 

And  yet  he  and  they  had  some  cause  for  com- 
plaint. They  were  packed  like  herrings  in  a  barrel. 
The  Northumberland,  it  was  said,  had  been  arrested 
on  her  way  back  from  India  in  order  to  convey  Na- 
poleon; all  the  water  on  board,  it  was  alleged,  had 
also  been  to  India,  was  discolored  and  tainted,  as 
well  as  short  in  quantity.  They  had  the  gloomiest 
prospects  to  face  in  the  future.  A  little  fretf ulness, 
then,  would  not  have  been  inexcusable,  at  any  rate 
on  the  part  of  the  two  French  ladies.  But  they  ap- 
pear to  have  been  fairly  patient,  and  at  any  rate  not 
to  have  attracted  the  particular  censure  of  the  fastidi- 
ous Cockburn. 

The  admiral  himself  cannot  have  been  entirely  at 
his  ease.  His  crew  were  in  a  state  of  scarcely  sup- 
pressed mutiny.  They  refused  to  get  up  anchor  at 
Portsmouth,  until  a  large  military  force  was  brought 
on  board  to  compel  them.  On  the  voyage  their  lan- 
guage and  conduct  were  beyond  description;  they 
thought  nothing  of  striking  the  midshipmen.  A 
guard  was  placed  outside  the  Emperor's  cabin  to  pre- 
vent communication  between  the  captive  and  the 
crew.  Napoleon  is  said  to  have  told  Cockburn  that 
he  did  not  doubt  that  he  could  get  many  to  join  him. 
What  between  teaching  manners  to  Napoleon  and 
discipline  to  his  crew,  Sir  George's  position  can 
scarcely  have  been  a  sinecure. 

Napoleon  landed  at  St.  Helena  exactly  thr«e 
months  after  his  surrender  to  Maitland.  But  he  re- 
mained in  charge  of  the  admiral  until  a  new  governor 
should  arrive,  for  the  actual  governor,  Mr.  Wilks,  bc- 

71 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

sides  being  the  servant  of  the  East  India  Company, 
was  not,  it  may  be  presumed,  considered  equal  to  the 
novel  and  special  functions  attaching  to  his  office, 
though  Wellington  thinks  that  it  would  have  been 
better  to  keep  him.  So  Cockburn  continued  in  office 
until  April,  i8i6,  when  he  was  superseded  by  the 
arrival  of  Sir  Hudson  Lowe. 


CHAPTER  V 

SIR    HUDSON    LOWE 

There  are  few  names  in  history  so  unfortunate 
as  Lowe's.  Had  he  not  been  selected  for  the  deHcate 
and  invidious  post  of  Governor  of  St.  Helena  during 
Napoleon's  residence,  he  might  have  passed  through 
and  out  of  life  with  the  same  tranquil  distinction  as 
other  officers  of  his  service  and  standing.  It  was  his 
luckless  fate,  however,  to  accept  a  position  in  which 
it  was  difficult  to  be  successful,  but  impossible  for 
him.  He  was,  we  conceive,  a  narrow,  ignorant,  irri- 
table man,  without  a  vestige  of  tact  or  sympathy. 
"His  manner,"  says  the  apologetic  Forsyth,  "was 
not  prepossessing,  even  in  the  judgment  of  favorable 
friends."  "His  eye,"  said  Napoleon,  on  first  seeing 
him,  "is  that  of  a  hyena  caught  in  a  trap."  Lady 
Granville,  who  saw  him  two  years  after  he  had  left 
St.  Helena,  said  that  he  had  the  countenance  of  a 
devil.  We  are  afraid  we  must  add  that  he  was  not 
what  we  should  call,  in  the  best  sense,  a  gentleman. 
But  a  government  which  had  wished  Napoleon  to 
be  hanged  or  shot  was  not  likely  to  select  any  per- 
son of  large  or  generous  nature  to  watch  over  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life;  nor,  indeed,  had  they  sought  one, 
were  they  likely  to  secure  one  for  such  a  {wst.  Lowe, 
however,  was  a  specially  ill  choice,  for  a  reason  ex- 
ternal to  himself.    He  had  commanded  the  Corsican 

73 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

Rangers,  a  regiment  of  Napoleon's  subjects  and  fel- 
low-countrymen in  arms  against  France,  and,  there- 
fore, from  that  sovereign's  point  of  view,  a  regiment 
of  rebels  and  deserters.  This  made  him  peculiarly 
obnoxious  to  the  Corsican  Emperor,  who  was  not 
sparing  of  taunts  on  the  subject.  Nor  was  it  any  ad- 
vantage to  him  to  have  been  driven  from  Capri  by 
General  Lamarque  with,  it  was  alleged,  an  inferior 
force.  But  not  in  any  case,  though  we  believe  his 
intentions  were  good,  and  although  he  had  just  mar- 
ried a  charming  wife,  whose  tact  should  have  guided 
him,  could  he  ever  have  been  a  success. 

In  saying  this  we  do  not  rely  on  our  own  impres- 
sions alone.  The  verdict  of  history  is  almost  uni- 
formly unfavorable.  We  have  met  with  only  two 
writers  who  give  a  favorable  account  of  Lowe,  be- 
sides his  official  defenders.  One  is  Henry,  a  military 
surgeon  quartered  at  St.  Helena,  a  friend  and  guest 
of  Lowe's,  who  gives,  by  the  bye,  an  admirable  de- 
scription of  the  reception  of  his  regiment  by  Napoleon. 
Henry,  throughout  his  two  volumes,  has  a  loyal  and 
catholic  devotion  to  all  British  governors,  which  does 
not  exclude  Lowe.  He  speaks  of  Sir  Hudson  as  a 
much-maligned  man,  though  he  admits  that  his  first 
impressions  of  the  governor's  appearance  were  un- 
favorable, and  alludes  to  the  hastiness  of  temper, 
uncourteousness  of  demeanor,  and  severity  of  meas- 
ures with  which  Lowe  was  credited.  All  these  are 
counterbalanced  in  the  author's  mind  by  the  talent 
which  the  governor  "  exerted  in  unravelling  the  intri- 
cate plotting  constantly  going  on  at  Long  wood,  and 
the  firmness  in  tearing  it  to  pieces,  with  the  unceas- 
ing vigilajice,"  and  so  forth.  No  one  denies  the  vigi- 
lance, but  we  have  no  evidence  of  plots  at  Longwood 

74 


SIR   HUDSON   LOWE 

more  dangerous  than  the  smuggling  of  letters.  The 
testimony,  therefore,  does  not  seem  very  valuable; 
but  let  it  stand  for  what  it  is  worth.  The  other  au- 
thority is  the  anonymous  author  of  a  story  called 
Edward  Lascelles.  Here  the  prejudices  of  the  au- 
thor are  overcome  by  the  hospitality  of  the  governor ; 
and,  in  both  cases,  the  charm  of  Lady  Lowe  seems 
to  have  been  effectual.  These,  however,  are  slender 
bulwarks.  On  the  other  hand,  we  have  Walter  Scott, 
with  strong  prepossessions  in  favor  of  High  Toryism 
and  the  Liverpool  government.  "It  would  require," 
says  Scott,  "a  strong  defence  on  the  part  of  Sir  Hud- 
son Lowe  himself  ...  to  induce  us  to  consider  him 
as  the  very  rare  and  highly  exalted  species  of  char- 
acter to  whom,  as  we  have  already  stated,  this  im- 
portant charge  ought  to  have  been  intrusted."  Even 
Lowe's  own  biographer,  whose  zeal  on  the  governor's 
behalf  cannot  be  questioned  by  those  who  have  sur- 
vived the  perusal  of  his  book,  is  obliged  to  censure: 
on  one  occasion  he  says  truly  that  one  of  Lowe's  pro- 
ceedings was  uncalled  for  and  indiscreet;  on  others, 
a  similar  opinion  is  not  less  manifest.  Alison,  an 
ardent  supporter  of  the  same  political  creed,  saj's 
that  Lowe  "  proved  an  unhappy  selection.  His  man-^ 
ner  was  rigid  and  unaccommodating,  and  his  temper 
of  mind  was  not  such  as  to  soften  the  distress  which 
the  Emperor  suffered  during  his  detention."  "Sir 
Hudson  Lowe,"  said  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  "was 
a  very  bad  choice ;  he  was  a  man  wanting  in  educa- 
tion and  judgment.  He  was  a  stupid  man ;  he  knew 
nothing  at  all  of  the  world,  and,  like  all  men  who 
know  nothing  of  the  world,  he  was  suspicious  and 
jealous."  This,  from  Wellington,  was  remarkable,  ^ 
for  he  was  not  a  generous  enemy,  and  he  thought 

75 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

that  Napoleon  had  nothing  to  complain  of.  But, 
after  all,  there  are  certain  witnesses  of  high  char- 
acter, well  acquainted  with  Lowe,  who  were  on  the 
spot,  whose  testimony  seems  to  us  conclusive.  We 
mean  Sir  Pulteney  Malcolm  (who  was  admiral  on  the 
station)  and  the  foreign  commissioners.  Malcolm 
was  in  the  same  interest,  was  serving  the  same  gov- 
ernment, and  seems  to  have  been  heartily  loyal  to 
the  governor.  But  that  did  not  prevent  the  gover- 
nor's quarrelling  with  him.  Malcolm  found,  as  we 
have  seen,  that  the  island  was  pervaded  by  the  gov- 
ernor's spies,  that  Lowe  did  not  treat  him  as  a  gentle- 
man, that  Lowe  cross-questioned  him  about  his  con- 
versations with  Napoleon  in  a  spirit  of  unworthy  sus- 
picion. They  parted  on  the  coolest  terms,  if  on  any 
terms  at  all. 

The  commissioners  were  hostile  to  Napoleon,  and 
anxious  to  be  well  with  Lowe.  But  this  was  impos- 
sible. The  Frenchman,  Montchenu,  was  the  most 
favorable,  yet  he  writes :  "1  should  not  be  surprised 
to  hear  shortly  that  his  little  head  has  succumbed 
under  the  enormous  weight  of  the  defence  of  an  inac- 
cessible rock,  protected  by  land  and  sea  forces.  .  .  . 
Ah !  What  a  man !  I  am  convinced  that  with  every 
possible  search  one  could  not  discover  the  like  of 
him." 

Sturmer,  the  Austrian,  says  that  it  would  have 
been  impossible  to  make  a  worse  choice.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  find  a  man  more  awkward,  extrava- 
gant, or  disagreeable.  "  I  know  not  by  what  fatality 
Sir  Hudson  Lowe  always  ends  by  quarrelling  with 
everybody.  Overwhelmed  with  the  weight  of  his  re- 
sponsibilities, he  harasses  and  worries  himself  un- 
ceasingly, and  feels  a  desire  to  worry  everybody  else," 

76 


SIR   HUDSON   LOWE 

Again  he  writes  of  Lowe :  "  He  makes  himself  odious. 
The  EngUsh  dread  him  and  fly  from  him,  the  French 
laugh  at  him,  the  commissioners  complain  of  him, 
and  every  one  agrees  that  he  is  half  crazy."  Bal- 
main,  the  Russian,  was  a  favored  guest  of  Lowe's, 
and  ended  by  marrying  his  step-daughter.  But  he 
never  ceases  railing  against  that  luckless  official. 
"  The  governor  is  not  a  tyrant,  but  he  is  troublesome 
and  unreasonable  beyond  endurance."  Elsewhere 
he  says:  "Lowe  can  get  on  with  nobody,  and  sees 
everywhere  nothing  but  treason  and  traitors. ' '  Lowe, 
indeed,  did  not  love  the  commissioners,  as  represent- 
ing an  authority  other  than  his  own.  He  would  re- 
main silent  when  they  spoke  to  him.  He  was  incon- 
ceivably rude  to  them.  But  that  in  itself  seems  no 
proof  of  his  fitness  for  his  post. 

One  of  his  freaks  with  regard  to  the  commissioners 
is  too  quaint  to  be  omitted.  He  insisted  on  address- 
ing them  in  English.  Montchenu,  who  did  not 
understand  a  word  of  the  language,  complained. 
Whereupon  Lowe,  who  wrote  French  with  facility, 
offered  to  correspond  in  Latin,  as  the  diplomatic 
language  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

"The  duty  of  detaining  Napoleon's  person,"  said-^ 
Scott,  "...  required  a  man  of  that  extraordinary 
firmness  of  mind  who  should  never  yield  for  one 
instant  his  judgment  to  his  feelings,  and  should  be 
able  at  once  to  detect  and  reply  to  all  such  false  argu- 
ments as  might  be  used  to  deter  him  from  the  down- 
right and  manful  discharge  of  his  office.  But  then, 
there  ought  to  have  been  combined  with  those  rare 
qualities  a  calmness  of  temper  almost  equally  rare, 
and  a  generosity  of  mind  which,  confident  in  its  own 
honor  and  integrity,  could  look  with  serenity  and 

77 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

^  compassion  upon  the  daily  and  hourly  effects  of  the 
maddening  causes  which  tortured  into  a  state  of  con- 
stant and  unendurable  irritability  the  extraordinary 
being  subjected  to  their  influence."  This  rather 
pompous  and  wordy  definition  does  certainly  not 
apply  to  Lowe.  He  was,  in  truth,  tormented  by  a 
sort  of  monomania  of  plots  and  escapes;  he  was,  if 
we  may  coin  an  English  equivalent  for  a  useful  and 
untranslatable  French  word,  meticulous  almost  to 
-4*  madness :  he  was  tactless  to  a  degree  almost  incred- 
ible. We  believe  that  we  can  produce  from  the  pages 
of  his  own  ponderous  biographer  sufficient  examples 
of  his  character  and  of  his  unfitness  for  a  post  of  dis- 
crimination and  delicacy. 

Montholon  offers  Montchenu  a  few  beans  to  plant, 
both  white  and  green.  To  the  ordinary  mind  this 
seems  commonplace  and  utilitarian  enough.  But  the 
governor's  was  not  an  ordinary  mind.  He  scents  a 
plot;  he  suspects  in  these  innocent  vegetables  an  al- 
lusion to  the  white  flag  of  the  Bourbons  and  the  green 
uniform  usually  worn  by  Napoleon.  He  writes 
gravely  to  Bathurst :  "  Whether  the  haricots  blancs 
and  haricots  verts  bear  any  reference  to  the  drapeau 
blanc  of  the  Bourbons,  and  the  habit  vert  of  General 
Bonaparte  himself,  and  the  livery  of  his  servants 
at  Longwood,  I  am  unable  to  say;  but  the  Marquis 
de  Montchenu,  it  appears  to  me,  would  have  acted 
with  more  propriety  if  he  had  declined  receiving 
either,  or  limited  himself  to  a  demand  for  the  white 
alone."  "Sir  H.  Lowe,"  says  Forsyth,  "thought 
the  matter  of  some  importance,  and  again  alluded 
to  it  in  another  letter  to  Lord  Bathurst."  Even  For- 
syth cuts  a  little  joke. 

Take  another  example.     A  young  Corsican  priest 

78 


SIR   HUDSON   LOWE 

is  sent  out  to  the  exile.  He  is,  like  all  the  rest,  much 
and  necessarily  bored— all  the  more  as,  it  is  said,  he 
can  neither  read  nor  write.  So  he  determines  to  try 
and  ride,  and  he  is  naturally  shy  about  being  seen 
making  the  experiment.  But  he  wears  a  jacket 
something  like  Napoleon's,  though  the  rest  of  the 
costume  is  totally  unlike  the  Emperor's.  All  this  is 
reported  in  great  detail  to  the  governor,  and  is  called 
by  Forsyth,  "  an  apparent  attempt  to  personate  Na- 
poleon, and  thus  deceive  the  orderly  officer.  ...  It 
was  not  an  unimportant  fact  that  Bonaparte  did  not 
leave  his  house  that  day  at  all."  We  do  not  know 
the  exact  stress  laid  on  this  incident  by  Lowe.  Judg- 
ing from  Forsyth's  account,  it  was  considerable. 
The  fact  that  the  experimental  ride  of  a  young  priest 
should  be  construed  into  an  attempt  to  i)ersonate 
the  middle-aged  and  corpulent  exile  shows  the  effect 
which  an  abiding  panic  may  exercise  on  a  mind  in 
which  suspicion  has  become  monomania. 

Bertrand's  children  go  to  breakfast  with  Mont- 
chenu.  The  little  boy,  on  seeing  a  jwrtrait  of  Louis 
XVIL,  asks:  "Qui  est  ce  gros  paiif?"  On  being 
told,  he  adds,  " C'est  un  grand  coquin";  while  his 
sister  Hortense  displays  a  not  unnatural  aversion 
to  the  white  cockade,  the  s3rmbol  of  the  party  which 
had  ruined  her  family  and  condemned  her  father  to 
death.  The  artless  prattle  of  these  babes  is  cate- 
gorically recorded  by  the  conscientious  governor 
for  the  instruction  of  the  secretary  of  state. 

Balmain  records  an  observation  of  Lowe's  in  the 
same  strain  of  exaggeration,  which  depicts  the 
man.  "  Dr.  O'Meara, "  says  the  governor,  "  has  com- 
mitted unpardonable  faults.  He  informed  the  peo- 
ple there"  (at  Longwood)  "of  whiat  was  going  on 

79 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

in  the  town,  in  the  country,  on  board  the  ships ;  he 
went  in  search  of  news  for  them,  and  paid  base  court 
to  them.  Then  he  gave  an  Enghshman,  on  behalf 
of  Napoleon,  and  secretly,  a  snuff-box!  What  in- 
famy! And  is  it  not  disgraceful  of  this  grandissime 
Emperor  thus  to  break  the  regulations?"  This  is 
not  burlesque;  it  is  serious. 

The  man  seems  to  have  become  half  crazy  with  his 
•  responsibility,  and  with  the  sense  that  he  was  an 
object  of  ridicule  both  to  the  French  and  to  his  col- 
leagues, while  his  captive  remained  the  centre  of  ad- 
miration and  interest,  and,  in  the  main,  master  of 
the  situation.  He  prowled  uneasily  about  Long- 
wood,  as  if  unable  to  keep  away,  though  Napoleon 
refused  to  receive  him.  They  had,  indeed,  only  six 
interviews  in  all,  and  those  in  the  first  three  months 
of  his  term  of  office.  For  nearly  five  years  before 
-4-  Napoleon's  death  they  never  exchanged  a  word. 

With  regard  to  this  question  of  interviews,  Napo- 
leon was  rational  enough.  Lowe  was  antipathetic 
to  him  as  a  man  and  as  his  jailer.  Consequently, 
Napoleon  lost  his  temper  outrageously  when  they 
met,  a  humiliation  for  which  the  Emperor  suffered 
afterwards,  and  which  he  was  therefore  anxious  to 
avoid.  Four  days  before  their  last  terrible  conver- 
sation of  August  1 8, 1816,  Napoleon  says,  with  perfect 
good  sense  and  right  feeling,  that  he  does  not  wish 
to  see  the  governor,  because  when  they  meet  he  says 
things  which  compromise  his  character  and  dignity. 
On  the  1 8th  Lowe  comes  to  Longwood.  Napoleon 
escapes,  but  Lowe  insists  on  seeing  him,  and  the  re- 
sult fully  justifies  Napoleon's  apprehension  and 
self -distrust.  As  soon  as  it  is  over.  Napoleon  re- 
turns to  his  former  frame  of  mind,  and  bitterly  regrets 

80 


SIR   HUDSON   LOWE 

having  received  the  governor,  for  the  reasons  he 
gave  before,  and  determines  to  see  him  no  more — a 
resolution  to  which  he  fortunately  adhered. 

And  yet,  with  all  this  mania  of  suspicion,  it  is  curi- 
ous to  note  that  Lowe  was  unable  to  watch  over  those 
of  his  own  household.  Balmain  is  convinced,  and 
brings  instances  to  prove,  that  all  that  passed  at  Gov- 
ernment House  was  promptly  known  at  Longwood. 

We  have  said  that  Lowe  was  incredibly  tactless. 
One  of  his  first  acts  was  to  ask  Napoleon  to  dinner. 
We  give  the  actual  note  as  an  admirable  illustration 
of  Lowe's  lack  of  propriety  and  common  sense: 
"Should  the  arrangements  of  General  Bonaparte 
admit  it.  Sir  Hudson  and  Lady  Lowe  would  feel  grat- 
ified in  the  honor  of  his  company  to  meet  the  countess 
at  dinner  on  Monday  next  at  six  o'clock.  They  re- 
quest Count  Bertrand  will  have  the  goodness  to  make 
known  this  invitation  to  him,  and  forward  to  them 
his  reply."  Bertrand  did  make  the  invitation  known 
to  the  Emperor,  who  merely  remarked,  "It  is  too 
silly;  send  no  reply."  The  "countess"  was  Lady 
Loudon,  wife  of  Lord  Moira,  governor  -  general  of 
India.  A  man  who  could  ask  one  who,  the  year 
before,  had  occupied  the  throne  of  France,  "  to  meet 
the  countess  "  at  dinner,  was  not  likely  to  fulfil,  with 
success,  functions  of  extreme  delicacy.  Sir  Hud- 
son, however,  regarded  Napoleon  as  a  British  gen- 
eral not  in  employ,  and  thought  it  an  amiable  con- 
descension to  invite  him  to  take  his  dinner  with  "  the 
countess."  Moreover,  to  make  his  advances  en- 
tirely acceptable,  the  governor  addressed  Napoleon 
by  a  title  which  he  well  knew  that  the  Emperor  con- 
sidered as  an  insiilt  to  France  and  to  himself.  With 
a  spirit  of  hospitality,  however,  unquenched  by 
F  8i 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

hivS  rebuff,  Sir  Hudson,  three  months  afterwards, 
asked  Bertrand  to  invite  the  Emperor,  on  his  behalf, 
to  his  party  on  the  Prince  Regent's  birthday,  but 
Bertrand  dechned  to  give  the  message.  Lady  Lowe, 
^  however,  had  the  good  sense  to  say,  gayly,  "He 
would  not  come  to  my  house,  and  I  thought  him  per- 
fectly right/' 

It  is  unnecessary,  we  think,  to  multiply  these  ex- 
amples, or  to  dilate  further  on  the  uncongenial  sub- 
ject of  Lowe's  shortcomings  and  disabilities.  Justice, 
however,  requires  us  to  notice  that  Napoleon  was 
avenged  on  his  enemy  by  the  ill-fortune  which  pur- 
sued Sir  Hudson.  He  was  coldly  approved  by  his 
government,  but  received  little,  in  spite  of  constant 
solicitation.  His  rewards  were,  indeed,  slender  and 
unsatisfying.  George  IV.,  at  a  levee,  shook  him 
warmly  by  the  hand,  and  he  was  given  the  colonelcy 
of  a  regiment.  Four  years  later  he  was  made  com- 
mander of  the  forces  in  Ceylon.  This  was  all.  Three 
years  afterwards  he  returned  to  England  in  the  hope 
of  better  things,  visiting  St.  Helena  on  his  way.  He 
found  Longwood  already  converted  to  the  basest 
uses.  The  approach  to  it  was  through  a  large  pig- 
sty: the  billiard-room  was  a  hay-loft:  the  room  in 
which  Napoleon  died  was  converted  into  a  stable. 
All  trace  of  the  garden  at  which  the  Emperor  had 
toiled,  and  which  had  cheered  and  occupied  his  last 
moments,  had  vanished :  it  was  now  a  potato-field. 
Whatever  may  have  been  Lowe's  feelings  at  behold- 
ing this  scene  of  desolation  and  disgrace,  he  was 
not  destined  to  witness  a  more  cheering  prospect  in 
England.  He  first  waited  on  his  old  patron.  Lord 
Bathurst,  who  advised  him  at  once  to  return  to  Cey- 
lon.     He  then  went  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and 

82 


SIR   HUDSON   LOWE 

asked  for  a  promise  of  the  feversion  of  the  governor- 
ship of  Ceylon.  The  duke  repHed  that  he  could 
make  no  promise  till  the  vacancy  arose,  but  added, 
ambiguously  enough,  that  no  motive  of  policy  would 
prevent  him  from  employing  Sir  Hudson  wherever 
that  officer's  services  could  be  useful.  Sir  Hudson 
then  pressed  for  a  pension,  but  the  duke  replied,  un- 
ambiguously enough,  that  neither  would  Parliament 
ever  grant  one  nor  would  Mr.  Peel  ever  consent  to 
propose  one  to  the  House  of  Commons.  This  was 
cold  comfort  from  the  duke  for  the  man  whom  the 
duke  professed  to  think  hardly  used.  And  after 
the  expiry  of  his  appointment  in  Ceylon  he  never  re- 
ceived either  employment  or  pension.  We  do  not 
know  what  his  deserts  may  have  been,  but  we  think 
that  he  was  hardly  used  by  his  employers. 

When  O'Meara's  book  came  out.  Sir  Hudson  had 
his  opportunity.  He  determined  to  appeal  to  the 
law  to  vindicate  his  character.  He  at  once  retained 
Copley  and  Tindal,  who  bade  him  select  the  most 
libellous  passages  in  the  book  for  his  affidavit  in  ap- 
plying for  a  criminal  information.  This  was  easier 
said  than  done,  "from  the  peculiar  art  with  which 
the  book  was  composed."  .  .  .  "Truth  and  false- 
hood," continued  Lowe,  "were  so  artfully  blended 
together  in  the  book,  that  he  found  it  extremely  dif- 
ficult to  deny  them  in  an  unqualified  manner."  He 
found  it,  indeed,  so  difficult  that  he  took  too  long 
about  it.     O'Meara  had  published  his  book  in  July, 

1822.  It  was  not  till  the  latter  end  of  Hilary  term, 

1823,  that  Lowe's  counsel  appeared  in  court  to  move 
for  the  criminal  information.  The  judges  held  that 
the  application  was  made  too  late.  He  had  to  pay 
his  own  costs,  and  his  character  remained  unvin- 

83 


NAPOLEON:    THE  tAST  PHASE 

dicated.  Nor  did  he  attempt  any  further  efforts  to 
clear  himself,  but,  in  the  words  of  his  admiring 
biographer,  "he  wearied  the  government  with  appli- 
cations for  redress,  when  he  had,  in  fact,  in  his  own 
hands  the  amplest  means  of  vindicating  his  own 
character."  These  "ample  means"  apparently 
lurked  in  an  enormous  inass  of  papers,  intrusted 
first  to  Sir  Harris  Nicolas,  and  bhen  to  Mr.  Forsyth. 

But  when  at  length  the  vindication  appeared,  Sir 
Hudson's  ill-fortune  did  not,  in  our  judgment,  for- 
sake him.  He  himself  had  been  dead  nine  years 
when  the  Captivity  of  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena,  by 
Forsyth,  was  published  to  clear  his  sore  and  neg- 
lected memory.  It  is  in  three  massive  volumes,  and 
represents  the  indigestible  digest  of  Sir  Hudson 
Lowe's  papers,  extracted  by  that  respectable  author 
whom,  in  allusion  to  a  former  work.  Brougham  used 
to  address  as  "My  dearest  Hortensius."  But  the 
result,  it  must  be  admitted,  is  a  dull  and  trackless 
collection,  though  it  embraces  a  period  which  one 
would  have  thought  made  dulness  impossible.  It 
is  a  dreary  book,  crowned  by  a  barren  index.  We 
are  willing  to  believe  that  the  demerits  of  the  work 
are  due  rather  to  the  hero  than  the  biographer.  With 
that  questicHi  we  are  not  concerned.  But  as  a  de- 
fence of  Lowe  it  is  futile,  because  it  is  unreadable. 
Mr.  Seaton,  however,  has,  by  quarrying  in  Mr.  For- 
syth's materials,  produced  a  much  more  spirited  and 
available  refutation  of  O'Meara. 

And,  indeed,  whatever  the  demerits  of  Forsyth's 
book,  it  renders  two  services  to  the  student.  For  it 
is  a  repository  of  original  documents  bearing  on  the 
story,  and  it  conclusively  exposes  the  bad  faith  and 
un veracity  of  O'Meara. 

84 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  QUESTION  OF  TITLE 

A  DISCUSSION  of  Lowe's  character  inevitably 
raises  other  questions :  the  nature  of  the  grievances 
of  which  Napoleon  complained,  and  the  amount  of 
responsibility  for  those  grievances  justly  attaching 
to  the  governor.  The  grievances  may  be  ranged 
under  three  heads :  those  relating  to  title,  to  finance, 
and  to  custody.  Of  these  the  question  of  title  is  by 
far  the  most  important,  for  it  was  not  merely  the 
source  of  half  the  troubles  of  the  captivity,  but  it  op- 
erated as  an  almost  absolute  bar  to  intercourse,  and 
as  an  absolute  veto  on  what  might  have  been  an 
amicable  discussion  of  other  grievances. 

We  have  set  forth  at  length  the  ill-advised  note  in 
which  Lowe  asked  Napoleon  to  dinner.  It  was,  in 
any  case,  a  silly  th'ng  to  do,  but  the  governor  must 
have  known  that  there  was  one  phrase  in  it  which 
would  certainly  prevent  Napoleon's  noticing  it,  for 
in  it  he  was  styled  "  General  Bonaparte."  Napoleon 
regarded  this  as  an  affront.  When  he  had  first  land- 
ed on  the  island  Cockburn  had  sent  him  an  invita- 
tion to  a  ball  directed  to  "General  Bonaparte."  On 
receiving  it  through  Bertrand,  Napoleon  had  re- 
marked to  the  grand  marshal :  "  Send  this  card  to 
General  Bonaparte;  the  last  I  heard  of  him  was  at 
the  Pyramids  and  Mount  Tabor," 

85 


NAPOLEON:    THE    LAST  PHASE 

But,  as  a  rule,  he  did  not  treat  this  matter  so  hght- 
ly.  It  was  not,  he  said,  that  he  cared  particularly  for 
the  title  of  Emperor,  but  that  when  his  right  to  it  was 
challenged,  he  was  bound  to  maintain  it.  We  cannot 
ourselves  conceive  on  what  ground  it  was  disputed. 
He  had  been  recogmzed  as  Emperor  by  every  power 
in  the  world  except  Great  Britain,  and  even  she  had 
recognized  him  as  First  Consul,  and  been  willing  to 
make  peace  with  him  both  in  Paris  and  at  Chatillon. 
He  had  been  anointed  Emperor  by  the  Pope  himself : 
he  had  been  twice  solemnly  crowned,  once  as  Em- 
peror, and  once  as  King.  He  had  received  every 
sanction  which  tradition  or  religion  or  diplomacy 
could  give  to  the  imperial  title,  and  as  a  fact  had  been 
the  most  powerful  emperor  since  Charlemagne.  In 
France  the  titles  he  had  given,  the  dukes  and  mar- 
shals and  knights  whom  he  had  created,  all  were  rec- 
ognized. The  sovereign  source  of  these  was  by  im- 
plication necessarily  recognized  with  them.  The 
commissioners  appointed  to  accompany  Napoleon  to 
Elba  were  especially  enjoined  to  give  him  the  title  of 
Emperor  and  the  honors  due  to  that  rank.  Welling- 
ton himself  used  to  send  messages  to  Joseph — the 
mere  transient  nominee  of  Napoleon — as  to  "the 
King."  It  seems  impossible,  then,  to  surmise  why, 
except  for  purposes  of  petty  annoyance,  our  rulers 
refused  to  recognize  Napoleon's  admission  to  the 
caste  of  kings ;  for,  as  Consalvi  remarked  at  Vienna 
in  1 814,  "it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  Pope  went 
to  Paris  to  consecrate  and  crown  a  man  of  straw." 
But  that  refusal  was  the  key-note  of  their  policy,  ve- 
hement and  insistent,  and  it  affords  an  admirable  ob- 
ject-lesson of  the  range  and  wisdom  of  that  ministry. 
In  the  act  which  passed  through  Parliament  "for 

86 


THE   QUESTION   OF   TITLE 

more  effectually  detaining"  him  "in  custody/'  he 
is  carefully  called  "Napoleon  Buonaparte,"  as  if  to 
deny  that  he  had  ever  been  French  at  all.  This 
would  be  pitiable,  were  it  not  ridiculous. 

Cockburn  had  on  shipboard,  as  we  have  seen,  res- 
olutely inaugurated  this  solemn  farce.  And  so  soon 
as  he  landed  he  thus  answered  a  note  in  which  Ber- 
trand  mentioned  the  Emperor :  "  Sir,  I  have  the  honor 
to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  your  letter  and  note  of 
yesterday's  date,  by  which  you  oblige  me  ofl&cially 
to  explain  to  you  that  I  have  no  cognizance  of  any 
emperor  being  actually  upon  this  island,  or  of  any 
person  possessing  such  dignity  having  (as  stated  by 
you)  come  hither  with  me  in  the  Northwnberland. 
With  regard  to  yourself,  and  the  other  oflQcers  of  dis- 
tinction who  have  accompanied  you  here,"  and  so 
he  proceeds.  Napoleon  was  one  of  these  1  Cock- 
burn  complacently  sends  the  correspondence  to  Bath- 
urst,  with  a  note  in  which  he  speaks  of  "General 
Bonaparte  (if  by  the  term  'emperor'  he  meant  to 
designate  that  person).  "  This  is  too  much  even  for 
Forsyth. 

Lowe  carried  on  this  puerile  affectation  with  scru- 
pulous fidelity.  Hobhouse  sent  his  book  on  the  Hun- 
dred Days  to  Napoleon,  writing  inside  it  "  Imperatori 
Napoleoni."  This,  though  the  inscription,  after  all, 
in  strictness  meant  "To  General  Napoleon,"  the  con- 
scientious Lowe  sequestrated.  And  on  this  occasion 
he  laid  down  a  principle.  He  had  allowed  letters 
directed  under  the  imperial  title  to  reach  Napoleon 
from  his  relations  or  his  former  subjects,  "but  this 
was  from  an  English  person."  A  Mr.  Elphinstone, 
who  was  grateful  for  attentions  paid  to  a  wounded 
brother  at  Waterloo,  sent  him  some  chess-men  from 

87 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

China.  Lowe  made  difficulties  about  forwarding 
these  because  they  bore  N  and  a  crown.  We  feel 
tempted  to  ask  if  Napoleon's  linen,  marked  as  it  was 
with  the  objectionable  cipher,  was  admitted  to  the 
honors  of  the  island  laundry. 

It  would  be  easy  to  multiply  instances  of  Lowe's 
childishness  in  this  respect,  but  we  will  only  add  one 
more.  Three  weeks  before  his  death  the  sick  captive 
sent  Coxe's  Life  of  Marlborough,  as  a  token  of  good- 
will, to  the  officers  of  the  Twentieth  Regiment.  Un- 
fortunately, the  imperial  title  was  written  or  stamped 
on  the  title-page,  and  the  present,  under  the  orders 
of  the  governor,  was  declined.  In  these  days  the 
Twentieth  Regiment  would  perhaps  not  mind  pos- 
sessing the  Life  of  the  greatest  of  English  generals 
given  by  the  greatest  of  the  French, 

It  is  humiliating  to  be  obliged  to  add  that  this  pet- 
tiness survived  even  Napoleon  himself.  On  the  Em- 
peror's coffin-plate  his  followers  desired  to  place  the 
simple  inscription  "Napoleon,"  with  the  date  and 
place  of  his  birth  and  death.  Sir  Hudson  refused  to 
sanction  this,  unless  "Bonaparte"  were  added.  But 
the  Emperor's  suite  felt  themselves  unable  to  agree 
to  the  style  which  their  master  had  declined  to  ac- 
cept. So  there  was  no  name  on  the  coffin.  It  seems 
incredible,  but  it  is  true. 

What  are  the  grounds  on  which  the  British  gov- 
ernment took  up  so  unchivalrous  and  undignified  an 
attitude?  They  are  paraded  by  Scott  with  the  same 
apologetic  melancholy  with  which  his  own  Caleb  Bal- 
derstone  sets  forth  the  supper  of  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood.     They  appear  to  be  as  follows : 

(l)  "There  could  be  no  reason  why  Britain,  in 
QQmpa§§ion^tQ  courtesy,  should  give  to  her  prisoner 

§8 


THE   QUESTION   OF   TITLE 

a  title  which  she  had  refused  to  him  de  jure,  even 
while  he  wielded  the  empire  of  France  de  facto." 

The  sentence  would  be  more  accurately  put  thus, 
and  then  it  seems  to  answer  itself:  "There  could 
be  no  reason  why  Britain,  when  there  was  noth- 
ing to  be  got  out  of  him  in  exchange,  should  give 
to  her  prisoner  a  title  which  she  had  been  perfectly 
ready  to  acknowledge  when  there  was  something 
to  be  gained."  For  she  had  accredited  Lords  Yar- 
mouth and  Lauderdale  to  negotiate  with  the  Em- 
peror in  1806,  while  the  imperial  title  and  its  repre- 
resentative  are  duly  set  forth  in  the  protocols  of 
the  Congress  of  ChMillon  to  which  both  Napoleon  and 
the  Prince  Regent  sent  plenipotentiaries,  and  when, 
but  for  the  distrust  or  fatalism  or  madness  of  Napo- 
leon, a  treaty  would  have  been  signed  by  both. 
There  is,  then,  something  of  the  ostrich  in  the  re- 
fusal of  Great  Britain  to  recognize  the  style  of  Em- 
peror. And  it  seems,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  in  face 
of  what  occurred  in  1806  and  1814,  a  strong  state- 
ment of  Scott's  to  assert  that  "  on  no  occasion  what- 
soever, whether  directly  or  by  implication,  had  Great 
Britain  recognized  the  title  of  her  prisoner  to  be  con- 
sidered as  a  sovereign  prince."  Are,  then,  pleni- 
potentiaries accredited  to  other  than  sovereign  princes 
or  republics,  or  are  plenipotentiaries  from  any  other 
source  admitted  to  the  congresses  of  nations?  Are 
we  to  understand,  then,  that,  when  Yarmouth  and 
Lauderdale  went  to  Paris  with  their  full  powers,  or 
when  Castlereagh  and  Caulaincourt  compared  theirs 
at  ChMillon,  the  British  government  did  not  "by 
implication,"  though  not  "directly,"  recognize  Na- 
poleon as  Emperor?  With  whom,  then,  were  Yar- 
mouth w^d  Lauderdale  dealing  in  1806,  or  Castle- 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST  PHASE 

reagh  in  1814?  It  is  declared,  indeed,  on  good  au- 
thority, that  in  the  negotiations  which  led  up  to  the 
peace  of  Amiens  the  British  plenipotentiaries  hinted 
their  readiness  to  recognize  the  First  Consul  as  King 
of  France.  Napoleon  turned  a  deaf  ear.  Pasquier, 
a  candid  critic,  points  out  that  at  Chatillon  Britain, 
"which  had  so  long  and  so  perseveringly  refused  to 
recognize  Napoleon  as  Emperor  of  the  French,  found 
herself  the  power  most  anxious  to  treat  with  him, 
as  she  would  with  a  sovereign  whose  rights  had  been 
most  incontestably  recognized.'' 

Again,  in  what  capacity,  and  to  whom,  was  Sir  Neil 
Campbell  accredited  to  Elba?  By  the  protocol  of 
April  27,  1814,  Britain  had  recognized  the  sovereignty 
of  Elba.  Who,  then,  was  the  sovereign?  Was  it 
"  General  Bonaparte  "  ?  But  Sir  Neil  ofj&cially  signed 
documents  in  which  he  was  called  "S.  M.  TEm- 
pereur  Napoleon.'' 

It  is  true,  however,  that  Britain,  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  the  whole  Continent  had  bowed  before  Napoleon, 
had  some  reason  to  feel  a  just  pride  in  that  she,  at 
any  rate,  had  never  bent  the  knee,  had  never  formally 
and  directly  acknowledged  him  as  Emperor.  This 
was  a  successful  point  in  her  policy,  and  had  caused 
the  keenest  annoyance  to  Napoleon.  But  is  it  not 
also  true  that  this  very  fact  gave  her  a  matchless 
opportunity  of  displaying  a  magnanimity  which 
would  have  cost  her  nothing,  and  raised  her  still 
higher,  by  allowing,  as  an  act  of  favor  to  a  van- 
quished enemy,  an  honorary  title  which  she  had 
never  conceded  as  a  right  to  the  triumphant  sovereign 
of  the  West? 

But  "the  real  cause  lay  a  great  deal  deeper,"  says 
Scott.    "  Once  acknowledged  as  Emperor,  it  followed, 

90 


THE   QUESTION   OF   TITLE 

of  course,  that  he  was  to  be  treated  as  such  in  every 
particular,  and  thus  it  would  have  become  impossible 
to  enforce  such  regulations  as  were  absolutely  de- 
manded for  his  safe  custody."  Shallow  indeed  must 
the  government  have  been  that  deemed  this  reason 
"deep."  For,  to  any  such  pretension  on  the  jiart  of 
Napoleon,  it  need  only  have  opposed  precedents,  if, 
indeed,  precedents  were  necessary,  drawn  from  his 
own  reign;  though,  in  our  judgment,  it  would  have 
been  true,  as  well  as  complimentary,  to  say  that  the 
circumstances  were  as  unprecedented  as  the  prisoner. 
Never  before,  indeed,  has  the  peace  and  security  of 
the  universe  itself  required  as  its  first  and  necessary 
condition  the  imprisonment  of  a  single  individual. 

But  for  a  government  which  loved  precedents  it 
would  have  been  sufficient  to  allege  the  case  of  King 
Ferdinand  of  Spain,  interned  at  Valengay  in  the 
strictest  custody.  Napoleon  might  indeed  have  re- 
joined that  he  did  not  recognize  Ferdinand  as  King, 
though  he  was  so  by  the  abdication  of  his  father,  by 
the  acknowledgment  of  the  Spaniards,  and  by  hered- 
itary right.  But  Napoleon's  rejoinder  would  only 
have  assisted  our  government,  who  would  have  point- 
ed out  that  neither  had  they  recognized  him. 

There  was,  however,  a  higher  precedent  yet.  There 
is  a  sovereign  whose  pretensions  soar  far  above  em- 
pire, who  is  as  much  above  terrestrial  thrones,  dom- 
inations, and  powers  as  these  in  their  turn  are  above 
their  subjects.  The  Pope  asserts  an  authority  short 
only,  if  it  be  short,  of  the  Divine  government  of  the 
world.  He  claims  to  be  the  vice-regent  and  repre- 
sentative of  God  on  earth,  the  disposer  and  deposer  of 
crowns.  Napoleon  boasted  that  he  was  an  anointed 
sovereign;  it  was  the  Pope  who  anointed  him.     Yet 

91 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

this  very  superintendent  and  source  of  sovereignty 
was,  without  being  deprived  of  his  subUme  character, 
put  into  captivity  by  Napoleon,  not  as  Napoleon  was 
confined,  but  almost  as  malefactors  are  imprisoned. 
There  was  no  idle  discussion  then  of  "irreverence  to 
the  person  of  a  crowned  head,"  nor,  on  the  other 
hand,  of  denial  of  the  dignity  of  the  papacy.  The 
wearer  of  the  triple  crown  was  placed  under  lock  and 
key  by  Napoleon  because  it  suited  his  purpose,  just 
as  Napoleon  was  kept  in  custody  for  the  convenience 
and  security  of  the  coalition. 

We  think,  then,  that  Napoleon  had  given  convinc- 
ing proof  that  he  did  not  hold  that  it  was  impossible 
to  imprison  a  crowned  head,  or  impossible  to  keep  a 
crowned  head  in  custody  without  sanctioning  "his 
claim  to  the  immunities  belonging  to  that  title,"  and 
that  he  could  have  opposed  no  argument  on  that 
point  which  even  our  government  could  not  have 
controverted  with  ease. 

But,  says  Sir  Walter,  "if  he  was  acknowledged 
as  Emperor  of  France,  of  what  country  was  Louis 
XVIII.  king?"  This,  indeed,  is  Caleb's  "hinder  end 
of  the  mutton  ham  "  with  a  vengeance. 

In  the  first  place.  Napoleon  never  at  any  time  was 
styled  Emperor  of  France,  nor  did  he  now  wish  to  be 
called  anything  but  the  Emperor  Napoleon.  No  one 
could  deem  that  that  title  would  affect  the  actual  oc- 
cupant of  the  throne  of  France;  there  was  no  terri- 
torial designation  implied;  it  might  be  as  Emperor 
of  Elba  that  the  style  was  accorded. 

But,  secondly,  no  more  preposterous  argument 
could  be  used  by  a  British  ministry.  They  repre- 
sented the  only  government  that  had  really  commit- 
ted the  off^nge  which  they  now  pretended  to  appre- 

9^ 


THE   QUESTION   OF  TITLE 

hend.  For  more  than  forty  years  their  reigning 
sovereign  had  indeed  styled  himself  King  of  France, 
though  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  Louis  had  been 
occupying  the  actual  throne  and  kingdom  of  France 
for  three-fourths  of  the  time.  For  thirty-three  years 
of  this  period— till  1793— there  had  been  simultane- 
ously two  kings  of  France,  of  whom  the  King  of  Brit- 
ain was  the  groundless  aggressor  and  pretender. 
The  British  title  of  King  of  France  had  been  dropped 
under  Napoleon's  consulate  (when  the  union  with 
Ireland  necessitated  a  new  style),  possibly  not  with- 
out the  desire  of  conciliating  him.  But  the  particu- 
lar objection  stated  by  Scott  in  the  text  came  with 
a  particularly  bad  grace  from  the  ministers  of  George 
III.,  or,  indeed,  from  the  ministers  of  any  English  sov- 
ereign since  Edward  III.  All  this  is  formal  and  trivial 
enough,  but  the  whole  argument  concerns  a  formal 
triviality. 

It  is  strange  that  the  antiquarian  Scott  should  have 
forgotten  all  this.  But  it  is,  at  any  rate,  fortunate  for 
the  British  government  that  they  did  not  use  Scott's 
belated  argument  to  Napoleon  himself,  who  would 
have  pounced  like  a  hawk  on  so  suicidal  a  contention. 
And  he  would  further  have  reminded  them  that  he 
had  punctiliously  reserved  and  accorded  to  Charles 
IV.  full  regal  dignity,  though  he  had  placed  his 
own  brother  Joseph  on  the  throne  of  Spain. 

But  Sir  Walter  (and  we  quote  him  because  his  rea- 
soning on  this  subject  is  the  most  pleasing  and  plau- 
sible) denies  to  Napoleon  the  title  of  Emperor,  not 
merely  in  respect  of  France,  but  in  respect  of  Elba. 
Napoleon's  "breach  of  the  Treaty  of  Paris  was  in 
essence  a  renunciation  of  the  Empire  of  Elba ;  and 
the  reassumption  of  that  of  France  was  so  far  from 

93 


NAPOLEON:    THE  LAST    PHASE 

being  admitted  by  the  allies  that  he  was  declared  an 
outlaw  by  the  Congress  at  Vienna."  We  know  of  no 
renunciation  in  form  or  "in  essence"  of  the  title  of 
Emperor  of  Elba.  When  Napoleon  landed  at  Frejus, 
he  was,  we  suppose,  in  strict  form  the  Emperor  of 
Elba  making  war  on  the  King  of  France.  But,  either 
way,  this  is  a  puerility  unworthy  of  discussion. 

It  is,  however,  true  that  the  Congress  of  Vienna 
had  outlawed  Napoleon.  "  In  violating  the  conven- 
tion which  had  established  him  in  the  island  of  Elba, 
Bonaparte  had  destroyed  the  only  title  to  which  his 
existence  was  attached.  .  .  .  The  powers,  therefore, 
declare  that  Napoleon  Bonaparte  has  placed  himself 
outside  civil  and  social  relations,  and  as  the  enemy 
and  disturber  of  the  tranquillity  of  the  world  has  de- 
livered himself  h  la  vindicte  publique. "  Truly  a 
compendious  anathema.  The  curses  of  the  mediaeval 
papacy,  or  of  the  Jewry  which  condemned  Spinoza, 
were  more  detailed  but  not  more  effective.  But,  un- 
luckily, the  first  breach  in  the  convention,  which  es- 
tablished him  in  the  island  of  Elba,  was  not  made  by 
Napoleon,  but  by  the  other  side.  The  main  obvious 
necessity  for  Napoleon  in  the  island  of  Elba,  or  else- 
where, was  that  he  should  live.  With  that  object  the 
signatories  of  that  treaty  had  stipulated  that  he 
should  receive  an  income  on  the  Great  Book  of  France 
of  two  millions  of  francs;  that  his  family  should  re- 
ceive an  income  of  two  millions  and  a  half  of  francs ; 
that  his  son  should  have  as  his  inheritance  the 
Duchies  of  Parma,  Piacenza,  and  Guastalla,  and 
should  at  once  assume  the  title  of  prince  of  those 
states.  Not  one  of  these  stipulations,  which  were  the 
compensation  for  his  abdication,  had  been  observed 
when  Napoleon  left  Elba.   Neither  he  nor  his  relatives 

94 


THE   QUESTION  OF  TITLE 

had  ever  received  a  franc.  The  emperors  of  Russia 
and  Austria,  as  well  as  Lord  Castlereagh,  urged  on 
Talleyrand  the  execution  of  the  treaty.  They  insisted 
on  it  as  a  question  of  honor  and  good  faith.  To  them 
Talleyrand  could  only  answer  confusedly  that  there 
was  danger  in  supplying  what  might  be  used  as  the 
means  of  intrigue.  To  his  master  he  could  only  hint 
that  the  powers  seemed  to  be  in  earnest,  and  that  pos- 
sibly an  arrangement  might  be  made  by  which  Brit- 
ain might  be  jockeyed  into  furnishing  the  funds.  It 
is  a  tale  of  ignominy  and  broken  faith,  but  neither 
lie  with  Napoleon.  The  application  on  his  behalf  for 
the  payment  of  the  subsidy  when  due  was  not  even 
answered  by  the  French  government.  Napoleon  at 
St.  Helena  detailed  no  less  than  ten  capital  and  ob- 
vious breaches  of  this  treaty  committed  by  the  allies. 
So  fanatical  an  opponent  of  the  Emperor  as  Lafay- 
ette declares  that  it  seemed  a  fixed  policy  of  the  Bour- 
bons to  drive  Napoleon  to  some  act  of  despair.  His 
family,  says  the  marquis,  were  plundered.  Not 
merely  was  the  stipulated  income  not  paid  to  him, 
but  the  ministry  boasted  of  the  breach  of  faith.  His 
removal  to  St.  Helena,  as  Lafayette,  in  spite  of  con- 
tradiction, insists,  was  demanded,  and  insidiously 
communicated  to  Napoleon  as  a  plan  on  the  point 
of  execution.  Projects  for  his  assassinati(jn  were 
favorably  considered,  though  these,  as  beyond  the 
provisions  of  the  treaty,  may  be  considered  as  out- 
side our  present  argument.  For  under  this  head  the 
contention  is  simply  this,  that  it  was  the  allies,  and 
not  Napoleon,  that  broke  the  Treaty  of  Fontainebleau ; 
that,  on  the  contrary,  he  himself  observed  the  treaty 
until,  on  its  non-fulfilment  being  flagrant,  he  quitted 
Elba  and  landed  in  France.     In  truth,  he  might  well 

95 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST  PHASE 

allege  that,  by  the  non-fulfilment  of  the  treaty,  he 
was  starved  out  of  Elba.  We  do  not  contend  that 
this  was  his  sole  or  even  main  motive  in  leaving  Elba. 
We  only  set  it  up  as  against  the  contention  of  the 
allies  that  he  was  outlawed  by  breach  of  the  treaty. 
Were  it  internationally  correct  that  he  should  be  out- 
lawed for  the  rupture  of  that  treaty,  all  the  other  sig- 
natory sovereigns  should  have  been  outlawed  too. 

And,  after  this  decree  of  outlawry  was  promul- 
gated, the  situation  had  materially  changed  in  Napo- 
leon's favor;  for  France,  by  a  plebiscite,  had  conse- 
crated what  he  had  done.  It  is  the  fashion  to  sneer 
at  plebiscites,  and  they  are  not  always  very  reliable. 
But  this  was  the  only  possible  expression  of  French 
opinion,  the  only  possible  form  of  French  ratifica- 
tion. The  will  of  the  nation  condoned  or  approved 
his  return,  just  as  it  allowed  the  Bourbons  to  pass 
away  in  silence,  without  an  arm  raised  to  prevent  or 
to  defend  them.  We  could,  perhaps,  scarcely  expect 
the  coalition  to  take  into  consideration  so  trifling  a 
matter  as  the  will  of  the  nation.  But  it  is  hard  to 
see  why  the  choice  of  the  nation  should  be  placed 
outside  the  pale  of  humanity,  while  the  rejected  of 
the  nation  and  the  deliberate  violator  of  the  Treaty 
of  Fontainebleau  should  be  replaced  with  great  cir- 
cumstance on  the  throne. 

But,  it  may  be  said,  if  the  British  government  in 
this  matter  was  mean  and  petty,  was  not  Napoleon 
meaner  and  pettier?  Should  he  not  have  been  above 
any  such  contention?  What  did  it  matter  to  him? 
His  name  and  fame  were  secure.  Would  Lord  Bacon 
repine  at  not  being  known  as  Viscount  of  St.  Albans  ? 
No  man  will  ever  think  of  asking,  as  Pitt  said,  whether 
Nelson  was  a  baron,  a  viscount,  or  an  earl. 

96 


THE   QUESTION  OF   TITLE 

With  this  view  we  have  much  sympathy.  We 
may  at  once  admit  that  Napoleon  had  risen  to  an 
historical  height  far  above  the  region  of  titles,  and 
that  the  name  of  General  Bonaparte — the  young 
eagle  that  tore  the  very  heart  out  of  glory — is  to  our 
mind  superior  to  the  title  of  First  Consul  or  of  Em- 
peror. We  may  also  remember  that  Charles  V.,  on 
its  being  notified  to  him  that  the  Diet  had  accepted 
his  renunciation,  said:  "The  name  of  Charles  is 
now  enough  for  me,  who  henceforward  am  nothing"; 
that  he  at  once  desired  that  in  future  he  was  to  be 
addressed  not  as  Emperor,  but  as  a  private  person, 
had  seals  made  for  his  use  "  without  crown,  eagle, 
fleece,  or  other  device,"  and  refused  some  flowers 
which  had  been  sent  to  him  because  they  were  con- 
tained in  a  basket  adorned  with  a  crown. 

As  against  this  we  may  point  out  that  Napoleon 
was  emphatically,  as  Napoleon  III.  said  of  himself, 
a  parvenu  Emperor.  To  Charles  V.,  the  heir  of  half 
the  world,  the  descendant  of  a  hundred  kings,  it 
could  matter  little  what  he  was  called  after  abdica- 
tion, for  nothing  could  divest  him  of  his  blood  or  his 
birth.  Moreover,  Charles's  wish  was  to  be  a  monk ; 
his  gaze  was  fixed  on  heaven ;  he  had  lost  the  whole 
world  to  gain  his  own  soul.  But  to  the  second  son 
of  a  Corsican  lawyer  with  a  large  family  and  slender 
means  the  same  remark  does  not  apply,  and  the  same 
reflection  would  not  occur.  The  habits  and  feelings 
of  sovereignty  were  more  essential  and  precious  to 
him,  who  had  acquired  them  by  gigantic  effort,  than 
to  those  who  inherited  them  without  question  or 
trouble.  He  carried  this  idiosyncrasy  to  a  degree 
which  they  would  have  thought  absurd.  The  title 
of  Emperor  of  Elba  was  in  itself  burlesque.  The 
G  97 


NAPOLEON:    THE  LAST   PHASE 

grand  marshal  in  his  hut  at  St.  Helena  transcends 
some  of  the  characters  who  mum  to  Offenbach's 
music.  Princes  born  in  the  purple  would  have  seen 
this,  and  shrunk  from  the  ridicule  which  such  asso- 
ciations might  cast  on  their  sacred  attributes  of  sub- 
stantial sovereignty.  But  to  Napoleon  the  title  of 
Emperor  represented  the  crown  and  summit  of  his 
dazzling  career,  and  he  declined  to  drop  it  at  the  bid- 
ding of  a  foreign  enemy. 

If  this  were  all  to  be  said  for  him  it  would  be  little. 
This,  however,  is  but  a  small  part  of  the  argument. 
Napoleon  took  broader  and  higher  ground.  He  con- 
sidered, and  we  think  justly,  that  the  denial  of  the 
title  Emperor  was  a  slight  on  the  French  nation, 
a  contemptuous  denial  of  their  right  to  choose  their 
own  sovereign,  an  attempt  to  ignore  many  years 
of  glorious  French  history,  a  resolve  to  obliterate  the 
splendid  decade  of  Napoleon's  reign.  If  he  were  not 
Emperor,  he  said,  no  more  was  he  General  Bona- 
parte, for  the  French  nation  had  the  same  right  to 
make  him  sovereign  that  they  had  to  make  him  gen- 
eral. If  he  had  no  right  to  the  one  title,  he  had  no 
right  to  the  other.  We  think  that,  in  asserting  the 
title  as  a  question  of  the  sovereign  right  and  inde- 
pendence of  the  French  people,  he  was  standing  on 
firm  ground. 

But,  in  truth,  his  position  is  not  firm ;  it  is  impreg- 
nable. Scott  devotes  an  ill-advised  page  to  asking 
why  Napoleon,  who  had  wished  to  settle  in  England 
incognito,  like  Louis  XVIII.,  who  lived  there  as  Count 
of  Lille,  did  not  condescend  to  live  incognito  at  St. 
Helena.  "It  seems,"  says  Sir  Walter,  contemptu- 
ously, "that  Napoleon  .  .  .  considered  this  veiling 
of  his  dignity  as  too  great  a  concession  on  his  part 

98 


THE   QUESTION   OF   TITLE 

to  be  granted  to  the  governor  of  St.  Helena."  This 
is  an  amazing  sentence,  when  we  remember  Scott's 
advantages:  "the  correspondence  of  Sir  Hudson 
Lowe  with  His  Majesty's  government  having  been 
opened  to  our  researches  by  the  hberahty  of  Lord 
Bathurst,  late  secretary  of  state  for  the  Colonial 
Department."  The  fact  is,  of  course,  that  Napoleon, 
deliberately  and  formally,  in  September  or  October, 
1816  (when  he  referred  to  a  similar  offer  made  through 
Montholon  to  Cockburn  eight  months  before),  pro- 
posed to  assume  the  name  of  Colonel  Muiron,  or  of 
Baron  Duroc.  This  was  in  reply  to  a  note  from  Lowe 
to  O'Meara,  of  October  3d,  in  which  the  governor  says : 
"If  he  (Napoleon)  wishes  to  assume  a  feigned  name, 
why  does  he  not  propose  one?"  Napoleon  took  him 
at  his  word,  and  so  put  him  eternally  in  the  wrong. 
The  negotiation  was  carried  on  through  O'Meara, 
and  lasted  some  weeks.  Once  or  twice  the  high  con- 
tracting parties  appeared  to  be  on  the  point  of  agree- 
ment, but  we  have  no  doubt  that  Sir  Hudson  wished 
to  gain  time  to  refer  to  his  government,  Lowe,  ac- 
cording to  Montholon,  suggested  the  title  of  Count 
of  Lyons,  which  Napoleon  rejected.  "I  can,"  he 
said,  "  borrow  the  name  of  a  friend,  but  I  cannot  dis- 
guise myself  under  a  feudal  title."  This  seems 
sensible  enough,  but  he  had  a  better  reason  still. 
This  very  title  had  been  discussed  on  their  first  ar- 
rival at  St.  Helena,  and  Napoleon  had  appeared 
not  averse  to  it,  till  Gourgaud  had  objected  that  it 
would  be  ridiculous,  as  the  canons  of  Lyons  Cathe- 
dral were  counts  of  Lyons,  and  that  the  Emperor 
could  not  assume  an  ecclesiastical  incognito.  This 
was  conclusive.  Meanwhile,  the  governor  was  re- 
ferring the  question  home.    We  do  not  know  in  what 

99 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

terms,  for  it  is  characteristic  of  Forsyth's  murky 
compilation  that  he  only  prints  Bathurst's  reply. 
That  reply  is,  indeed,  amazing.  Napoleon  had  of- 
fered a  simple  and  innocent  means  of  getting  rid  of 
what  was  not  merely  a  perpetual  irritation,  but  an 
absolute  barrier  to  communication,  for  the  governor 
ignored  all  papers  in  which  the  imperial  title  oc- 
curred, and  Napoleon  ignored  all  others.  "On  the 
subject,"  says  Bathurst,  "of  General  Bonaparte's 
proposition  I  shall  probably  not  give  you  any  in- 
struction. It  appears  harsh  to  refuse  it,  and  there 
may  arise  much  embarrassment  in  formally  accept- 
ing it."  We  cannot  conjecture  the  nature  of  the  em- 
barrassment apprehended  by  our  colonial  secretary. 
Forsyth,  however,  has  been  so  fortunate,  from  the 
resources  at  his  command,  as  to  divine  the  minister's 
meaning.  The  assumption  of  an  incognito  is,  it  ap- 
pears, the  privilege  of  monarchs,  and  not  even  thus 
indirectly  could  the  British  government  concede  to 
Napoleon  the  privilege  of  a  monarch.  This  par- 
ticular privilege  is  shared  by  the  travelling  public, 
and  even  by  the  criminal  population,  who  make 
most  use  of  it.  It  would  be  as  sagacious  to  refuse 
to  a  country  squire  the  right  to  be  addressed  as  "  Sir  " 
by  his  gamekeeper,  because  princes  are  so  addressed, 
as  to  deny  an  assumed  name  to  Napoleon  because 
sovereigns  and  others  use  one  when  they  travel  in- 
cognito. So  we  are  still  in  the  dark,  more  especially 
as  it  was  Lowe  who  invited  Napoleon  to  avail  him- 
self of  this  "privilege."  But  Napoleon  had  thus 
done  his  best;  he  could  do  no  more;  the  blame  and 
responsibility  for  all  further  embarrassment  about 
title  must  remain  not  with  him,  not  even  with  Lowe, 
but  with  the  ministers  of  George  IV. 

100 


THE   QUESTION   OF   TITLE 

Lowe,  by-the-bye,  had  made  a  characteristically 
tactless  suggestion  of  his  own  to  solve  the  difl5culty. 
He  proposed  to  give  Napoleon  "the  title  of  Excel- 
lency, as  due  to  a  field  marshal."  This  judicious 
efifort  having  failed,  he  himself  cut  the  Gordian  knot, 
dropped  the  "General,"  substituted  "Napoleon," 
and  called  the  Emperor  "Napoleon  Bonaparte," 
as  it  were  John  Robinson. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  MONEY  QUESTION 

We  pass  from  the  question  of  title,  on  which  we 
have  been  compelled  to  dilate,  because  it  was  the 
root  of  all  evil,  to  the  question  of  finance,  which,  fort- 
unately— for  it  is  the  most  squalid  of  the  St.  Helena 
questions — may  be  treated  more  briefly,  as  it  is  only 
incidental  to  others.  The  question  of  title  has  even 
its  bearing  on  finance,  for  our  government  may  have 
held  that  if  Napoleon  was  to  be  treated  as  an  abdi- 
cated monarch,  he  might  be  held  to  require  an  ex- 
pensive establishment.  But  the  war  had  been  costly, 
and  the  prisoner  must  be  cheap.  The  most  expen- 
sive luxury  was  Sir  Hudson  himself;  his  salary  was 
£12,000  a  year.  Napoleon  and  his  household,  fifty- 
one  persons  in  all,  were  to  cost  £8000.  What  more 
he  required  he  might  provide  for  himself.  The  real 
cost  seems  to  have  been  £18,000  or  £19,000  a  year, 
though  Lowe  admits  that  Napoleon's  own  wants  were 
very  limited.  But  everything  on  the  island  was  scarce 
and  dear,  "raised,"  as  Lowe  said,  "to  so  extrava- 
gant a  price,"  and  Lowe  pointed  out  that  Bathurst's 
limit  was  impossible.  The  governor  magnanimously 
raised  the  captive  to  an  equality  with  himself.  He 
fixed  the  allowance  at  £12,000,  and  eventually  there 
was  rather  more  latitude.  It  is  only  fair  to  say  that 
Lowe  was,  in  this  matter,  less  ungenerous  than 
Bathurst,  his  ojfficial  chief. 

102 


THE   MONEY   QUESTION 

But,  in  the  mean  time,  much  had  happened.  Lowe 
was  ordered  by  Bathurst  to  cut  down  the  expenses  of 
these  fifty-one  people,  in  the  dearest  place  in  the 
world,  where,  by  all  testimony,  every  article,  even  of 
food,  was  three  or  four  times  as  costly  as  elsewhere, 
to  £8000  a  year.  He  writes  to  Montholon  as  to  the 
household  consumption  of  wine  and  meat.  Napo- 
leon seems  to  us  to  have  treated  the  matter  at  this 
stage  with  perfect  propriety.  He  said :  "  Let  him  do 
as  he  pleases,  so  long  as  he  does  not  speak  to  me 
about  it,  but  leaves  me  alone."  Even  Sir  Walter 
Scott  regrets  that  Lowe's  strict  sense  of  duty  im- 
pelled him  to  speak  to  the  Emperor  about  such  mat- 
ters. "We  could  wish,"  he  says,  "that  the  gov- 
ernor had  avoided  entering  upon  the  subject  of  the 
expenses  of  his  detention  with  Napoleon  in  person." 
The  Emperor  put  the  point  tersely  enough.  "II 
marchande  ignominieusement  notre  existence,"  he 
said.  And  when  Bertrand  asks  for  a  duplicate  list 
of  supplies  to  the  Emperor,  as  a  check  on  the  ser- 
vants, his  master  reproves  him.  "Why  take  the 
English  into  our  confidence  about  our  household 
affairs?  Europe  has  its  glasses  fixed  on  us;  the 
governor  will  know  it;  the  French  nation  will  be 
altogether  disgraced."  At  the  same  time  Napoleon 
did  not  disdain,  as  he  had  not  when  on  the  throne 
disdained,  to  send  for  his  steward  and  go  into  his 
accoimts.  He  tried  to  make,  and  did  make,  some  re- 
ductions, but  he  could  not  discuss  these  household 
details  with  his  jailer. 

Then  Lowe  writes  again,  and  Napoleon,  visiting  the 
table  of  his  household,  finds  scarcely  enough  to  eat. 
This  rests  only  on  the  authority  of  Las  Cases,  but  it 
is  not  improbable  that  the  authorities  of  the  kitchen 

103 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

may  have  made  a  practical  demonstration  against 
the  new  economies.  However  that  may  be,  Napoleon 
orders  his  silver  to  be  broken  up  and  sold.  Montho- 
lon  pleads  in  vain,  and  partially  disobeys.  Three 
lots  of  silver  are  sold  at  a  tariff  fixed  by  Lowe.  Mon- 
tholon  has  the  Emperor's  dinner  served  on  common 
pottery.  Napoleon  is  ashamed  of  himself — he  can- 
not eat  without  disgust,  and  yet  as  a  boy  he  always 
ate  off  such  ware.  "We  are,  after  all,  nothing  but 
big  babies."  And  his  joy  is  almost  infantine  when 
Montholon  next  day  confesses  his  disobedience,  and 
restores  uninjured  the  favorite  pieces  of  plate. 

And,  indeed,  the  last  sale  of  silver  had  vanquished 
Lowe.  He  expressed  lively  regret,  says  Montholon, 
and  was  evidently  afraid  of  the  blame  that  this  scan- 
dal might  bring  on  him.  At  any  rate.  Napoleon  re- 
mained master  of  the  field,  and  there  was  no  more 
trouble  about  money.  The  whole  proceeding  was, 
of  course,  a  comedy.  Napoleon  had  no  need  to  sell  a 
single  spoon.  He  had  ample  funds  in  Paris,  and 
ample  funds  even  at  St.  Helena.  And  yet  we  can- 
not blame  him.  He  was  fighting  the  British  gov- 
ernment in  thi&  matter,  and  we  can  scarcely  hold 
that  the  government  was  in  the  right.  He  had  no 
weapons  to  fight  with,  and  all  that  he  could  do  was 
in  some  way  or  other  to  appeal  to  the  world  at  large. 
This  he  did  by  breaking  up  his  plate.  It  was  a  fact 
that  must  be  known  to  every  inhabitant  of  the  island ; 
it  could  not  be  suppressed  by  Lowe;  thus  it  must 
soon  be  public  property  in  Europe.  Helpless  as  he 
was,  he  won  the  battle,  and  we  cannot  refrain  from 
a  kind  of  admiration,  both  at  the  result  and  at  the 
meagreness  of  his  means.  Later  on  he  attempted 
the  same  effect  on  a  smaller  scale.     Fuel  was  short 

104 


THE   MONEY   QUESTION 

at  Longwood,  and  Napoleon  ordered  Noverraz,  his 
servant,  to  break  up  his  bed  and  burn  it.  This,  we 
are  told,  produced  a  great  effect  among  the  "yam- 
stocks"  (for  so  were  the  inhabitants  of  St.  He- 
lena nicknamed),  "and  the  tyranny  of  the  gov- 
ernor," Gourgaud  gravely  adds,  "is  at  its  last 
gasp." 

Theatrical  strokes  were,  of  course,  by  no  means  un- 
familiar to  him.  Like  all  great  men,  he  was  a  man 
of  high  imagination,  and  this  imagination  made  him 
keenly  alive  to  scenic  effect.  While  on  the  throne  he 
had  done  much  in  this  way,  generally  with  success. 
He  liked  to  date  his  victorious  despatches  from  the 
palace  of  a  vanquished  monarch :  he  would  fly  into 
a  histrionic  passion  before  a  scared  circle  of  ambassa- 
dors :  he  would  play  the  bosom  friend  with  a  brother 
emperor  for  weeks  at  a  time.  He  studied  his  cos- 
tumes as  carefully  as  any  stage  manager  of  these 
latter  days.  He  would  have  placed  in  a  particular 
part  of  the  ranks  veterans  whose  biographies  had 
been  supplied  to  him,  and  would  delight  them  with 
the  knowledge  of  their  services.  Mettemich  de- 
clares that  the  announcement  of  his  victories  was 
prepared  with  similar  care.  Rumors  of  defeat  were 
sedulously  spread;  the  ministers  appeared  uneasy 
and  depressed ;  then,  in  the  midst  of  the  general  anxi- 
ety, the  thunder  of  cannon  announced  a  new  triumph. 
And  his  effects  were  generally  happy.  During  the 
Russian  campaign  there  are  two  more  dubious  in- 
stances, one  of  which  was  at  least  open  to  criticism, 
the  other  of  which  certainly  caused  disgust.  In  the 
midst  of  the  terrible  anxieties  of  his  stay  at  Moscow, 
with  fire  and  famine  around  him,  with  winter  and 
disaster  menacing  his  retreat,  he  dictated  and  sent 

105 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

home  an  elaborate  plan  for  the  reorganization  of  the 
Theatre  Frangaise.  This,  of  course,  was  to  impress 
his  staff  with  the  ease  and  detachment  of  his  mind, 
and  France  with  the  conviction  that  the  administra- 
tion of  the  empire  was  carried  on  from  Moscow  with 
the  same  universal  and  detailed  energy  as  in  Paris. 
Later  on,  when  he  had  to  avow  overwhelming  calam- 
ities, he  ended  the  ghastly  record  of  the  twenty-ninth 
bulletin  by  the  announcement  that  the  health  of  the 
Emperor  had  never  been  better.  He  calculated  that 
this  sentence  would  display  him  as  the  semi-divinity 
superior  to  misfortune,  and  maintain  France  in  the 
faith  that,  after  all,  his  well-being  was  the  one  thing 
that  signified :  that  armies  might  pass  and  perish  so 
long  as  he  survived.  It  was  inspired,  perhaps,  by  a 
recollection  of  the  sovereign  sanctity  with  which 
Louis  XIV.  had  sought  to  encompass  himself.  It 
was,  at  any  rate,  the  assertion  of  an  overpowering  in- 
dividuality. We  have  something  of  the  same  nature 
in  our  own  annals,  though  widely  differing  in  degree 
and  in  conception.  It  is  said  that  the  order  for  the 
famous  signal  of  Trafalgar,  "  England  expects  every 
man  to  do  his  duty,"  ran  at  first,  "Nelson  expects 
every  man  to  do  his  duty."  The  sense  of  individ- 
uality, sublime  in  the  admiral  before  the  supreme  vic- 
tory, revolted  mankind  with  the  apparent  selfishness 
of  the  general,  who  had  led  a  nation  to  court  and  un- 
dergo disaster,  in  the  very  hour  of  catastrophe.  And 
yet  mankind,  perhaps,  was  hardly  just.  The  asser- 
tion of  personality  had  been,  in  Napoleon's  case,  such 
a  strength  that  he  could  not  afford  to  dispense  with  it 
even  when  it  seemed  inopportune.  And  we  must  re- 
member that  those  who  took  part  in  the  Russian  cam- 
paign testify  that  the  first  question,  the  first  anxiety 

lo6 


THE   MONEY   QUESTION 

of  all,  was,  "  How  is  the  Emperor?    Does  he  keep  his 
health?" 

On  this  question  of  expense,  O'Meara  represents 
Napoleon  as  making  remarks  so  characterized  by  his 
excellent  common-sense  that  we  may  believe  them 
to  be  authentic.  "Here,  through  a  mistaken  and 
scandalous  parsimony,  they  (your  ministers)  have 
counteracted  their  own  views,  which  were  that  as 
little  as  possible  should  be  said  of  me,  that  I  should 
be  forgotten.  But  their  ill-treatment,  and  that  of  this 
man,  have  made  all  Europe  speak  of  me.  .  .  .  There 
are  still  millions  in  the  world  who  are  interested  in 
me.  Had  your  ministers  acted  wisely,  they  would 
have  given  a  carte  blanche  for  this  house.  This 
would  have  been  making  the  best  of  a  bad  business, 
have  silenced  all  complaints,  and  .  .  .  would  not 
have  cost  more  than  £16,000  or  £17,000  a  year." 

We  might  almost  have  forgiven  the  petty  finance 
of  the  government,  had  it  not  in  one  single  instance 
overreached  itself.  Napoleon  had  asked  for  some 
books,  mainly  to  enable  him  to  write  his  memoirs. 
The  government  supplied  the  books  as  "an  indul- 
gence," we  presume,  not  inconsistent "  with  the  entire 
security  of  his  person";  but  they  sent  him  in  the 
bill,  or  rather  a  demand,  for  the  sum.  Napoleon  or- 
dered Bertrand  to  refuse  to  pay  this  without  a  de- 
tailed account.  So  on  his  death  the  books  were  im- 
pounded by  Lowe,  and  sold  in  London  for  a  few 
hundred  pounds,  less  than  a  quarter  of  what  had 
been  spent  in  procuring  them.  Their  original  cost 
had  been  fourteen  hundred  pounds,  but  Napoleon  had 
added  greatly  to  their  value.  Many  of  them,  says 
Montholon,  were  covered  with  notes  in  the  Emperor's 
handwriting;  almost  all  bore  traces  of  his  study  of 

107 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

them.  Had  this  asset  been  preserved  to  the  nation, 
we  might  have  been  incHned  to  shut  our  eyes  as  to  its 
history  and  origin.  The  penny-unwise  and  pound- 
fooHsh  poHcy  of  the  government  lost  both  reputation 
and  result. 


CHAPTER  Vm 

THE   QUESTION   OF  CUSTODY 

The  last  group  of  grievances  related  to  the  ques- 
tion of  custody.  The  main  object  of  the  coalesced 
governments  was,  not  unnaturally,  that  under  no  cir- 
cumstances should  Napoleon  escape  from  confine- 
ment and  trouble  the  world  again.  So  they  chose 
the  most  remote  island  that  they  could  think  of, 
and  converted  it  laboriously  into  a  great  fortress. 
Strangers  could  scarcely  conceal  their  mirth  as  they 
saw  Lowe  adding  sentry  to  sentry,  and  battery  to 
battery,  to  render  more  inaccessible  what  was  al- 
ready impregnable;  although,  before  leaving  Eng- 
land, he  had  avowed  to  Castlereagh  that  he  saw  no 
possible  prospect  of  escape  for  Napoleon  but  by  a 
mutiny  of  the  garrison.  Nevertheless,  he  increased 
the  precautions  at  compound  interest.  Las  Cases,  in 
his  intercepted  letter  to  Lucien,  described  them  with 
some  humor,  and  declared  that  the  posts  established 
on  the  peaks  were  usually  lost  in  the  clouds.  Mont- 
chenu,  the  French  commissioner,  declared  that  if  a 
dog  were  seen  \o  pass  anywhere,  at  least  one  sentinel 
was  placed  on  the  spot.  He  is  indeed  copious  on  the 
subject,  though  he  considered  his  interest  and  re- 
sponsibility in  the  matter  second  only  to  those  of 
Lowe  himself.  He  details  with  pathetic  exactitude 
the  precautions  taken.     The  plain   of  Longwood, 

109 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

where  Napoleon  lived,  is,  he  says,  separated  from  the 
rest  of  the  island  by  a  frightful  gully,  which  com- 
pletely surrounds  it,  and  is  only  crossed  by  a  narrow 
tongue  of  land  not  twenty  feet  broad,  so  steep  that  if  ten 
thousand  men  were  masters  of  the  island,  fifty  could 
prevent  their  arriving  at  Longwood.  One  can  only 
arrive  at  Longwood  by  this  pathway,  and,  in  spite  of 
these  difficulties,  the  Fifty-third  Regiment,  a  park  of 
artillery,  and  a  company  of  the  Sixty-sixth  are  en- 
camped at  the  gate.  Farther  on,  nearer  the  town, 
there  is  another  post  of  twenty  men,  and  the  whole 
enclosure  is  guarded,  day  and  night,  by  little  de- 
tachments in  view  of  each  other.  At  night  the 
chain  of  sentries  is  so  close  that  they  almost  touch 
each  other.  Add  to  this  a  telegraph  station  on  the 
top  of  every  hill,  by  which  the  governor  receives 
news  of  his  prisoner  in  one  minute,  or  at  most  two, 
wherever  he  may  be.  It  is  thus  evident  that  escape 
is  impossible,  and  even  if  the  governor  were  to  permit 
it,  the  guardianship  of  the  sea  would  prevent  it.  For, 
from  the  signal  stations,  a  vessel  can  generally  be 
descried  at  a  distance  of  sixty  miles.  Whenever  one 
is  perceived  a  signal  cannon  is  fired.  Two  brigs-of- 
war  patrol  round  the  island  day  and  night ;  a  frigate 
is  placed  at  the  only  two  places  where  it  is  possible 
to  land.  (No  foreign  vessel,  it  may  be  added,  and 
only  a  few  privileged  British  vessels,  such  as  men- 
of-war,  or  ships  bringing  necessary  provisions,  ap- 
pear to  have  been  allowed  under  any  pretext  to 
communicate  with  the  shore.) 

Surely,  then,  the  agonized  apprehensions  of  the 
governor  were  misplaced;  his  custody  might  have 
been  less  strict,  and  Napoleon  might  have  been  al- 
lowed to  keep  himself  in  health  by  riding  over  this 

no 


THE   QUESTION   OF   CUSTODY 

barren  rock  without  the  accompaniment  of  a  British 
officer.  A  boyish  practical  joke  of  his,  soon  after 
reaching  the  island,  and  Cockburn's  remark  on  it, 
make  this  more  clear.  Napoleon,  Bertrand,  and 
Gourgaud  are  out  riding,  followed  by  Captain  Pop- 
pleton.  Bertrand  begs  Poppleton  not  to  follow  so 
close;  Napoleon  sets  off  at  a  gallop  with  Gourgaud; 
they  soon  lose  Poppleton,  who,  it  appears,  was  not 
a  dashing  horseman.  Poppleton,  disconsolate,  re- 
turns and  reports  to  the  admiral.  Cockbum  laughs 
at  the  afifair  as  a  boyish  joke,  une  espi^glerie  de 
sous-lieutenant,  and  says:  "It  is  a  good  lesson  for 
you,  but  as  to  danger  of  escape,  there  is  none.  My 
cruisers  are  so  well  posted  round  the  island  that  the 
devil  himself  could  not  get  out  of  it " — the  same  con- 
viction that  Lowe  had  expressed  to  Castlereagh. 

Later  on,  when  Napoleon  was  confined  to  the  house 
by  illness,  the  governor  became  alarmed.  Was  the 
prisoner  in  the  house  at  all,  or  was  he  sliding  down 
some  steep  ravine  to  a  submarine  boat?  He  deter- 
mined on  a  firm  and  unmistakable  policy.  He  sent 
(August  29,  1819)  a  letter  to  "Napoleon  Bonaparte," 
giving  that  personage  notice  that  the  orderly  officer 
must  see  him  daily,  come  what  may,  and  may  use 
any  means  he  may  see  fit  to  surmount  any  obstacle 
or  opposition ;  that  any  of  Napoleon's  suite  who  may 
resist  the  officer  in  obtaining  this  access  would  be  at 
once  removed  from  Long  wood  and  held  responsible 
for  any  results  that  might  occur;  and  that  if  the  of- 
ficer has  not  seen  Napoleon  by  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning  he  is  to  enter  the  hall  and  force  his  way  to 
Napoleon's  room.  Brave  words,  indeed  I  Napoleon 
replies  through  Montholon  that  there  is  no  question 
for  him  of  any  choice  between  death  and  an  igno- 

III 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

minious  condition  of  life,  and  that  he  will  welcome 
the  first — implying,  of  course,  what  he  had  often  said, 
that  he  would  resist  the  officer  by  force.  What  hap- 
pens ?  On  September  4th  Lowe  comes  to  withdraw  his 
instructions.  Forsyth  omits  all  mention  of  this  in- 
cident, but  Montholon  gives  the  documents,  which 
can.  scarcely  be  fabricated.  And  we  know  that  there 
was  no  result  except  that  the  unhappy  officer  at 
Longwood  is  stimulated  to  fresh  exertions,  and  leads 
a  miserable  life.  To  such  straits  is  he  reduced  for  a 
sight  of  the  prisoner  that  he  is  recommended  to  be- 
take himself  to  the  key-hole.  Sometimes  he  is  more 
fortunate,  and  sees  a  hat  which  may  contain  Napo- 
leoji's  head.  Sometimes  he  peeps  through  a  window 
and  sees  the  prisoner  in  his  bath.  On  one  of  these 
occasions  Napoleon  perceived  him,  and,  issuing  forth, 
advanced  towards  the  captain's  hiding-place  in  ap- 
palling nudity.  But,  as  a  rule,  the  existence  of  this 
hapless  officer  is  one  of  what  hunting  men  would  call 
blank  days. 

"April  3d. — Napoleon  still  keeps  himself  con- 
cealed. I  have  not  been  able  to  see  him  since  the 
25th  ult.  .  .  .  April  19th. — I  again  waited  on  Mon- 
tholon, and  told  him  I  could  not  see  Napoleon.  He 
appeared  surprised,  and  said  they  had  seen  me.  .  .  . 
I  was  nearly  twelve  hours  on  my  legs  this  day  en- 
deavoring to  see  Napoleon  Bonaparte  before  I  suc- 
ceeded, and  I  have  experienced  many  such  days  since 
I  have  been  stationed  at  Longwood.  .  .  .  23d. — I 
believe  that  I  saw  Napoleon  Bonaparte  to-day  in  the 
act  of  stropping  his  razor  in  his  dressing-room." 
Again  the  hapless  Captain  NichoUs  reports :  "  I  must 
here  beg  leave  to  state  that  in  the  execution  of  my 
duty  yesterday  I  was  upon  my  feet  upwards  of  ten 

112 


THE   QUESTION   OF   CUSTODY 

hours,  endeavoring  to  procure  a  sight  of  Napoleon 
Bonaparte,  either  in  his  httle  garden,  or  at  one  of  his 
windows,  but  could  not  succeed;  that  during  the 
whole  of  this  time  I  was  exposed  to  the  observation 
and  remarks  of  not  only  the  French  servants,  but 
also  to  the  gardeners  and  other  persons  employed 
about  Longwood  House;  and  that  I  have  very  fre- 
quently experienced  days  of  this  kind  since  I  have 
been  employed  on  this  duty." 

To  such  a  pitch  had  mismanagement  reduced  the 
peremptory  governor  and  his  ministerial  chiefs.  In- 
stead of  "  You  must  do  this,  and  you  must  do  that," 
his  officer  has  to  lead  the  life  of  a  tout,  and  an  un- 
successful tout,  exposed  to  the  derision  of  the  garden- 
ers and  household  as  well  as  the  ironical  survey  of 
the  invisible  prisoner.  Napoleon  had  won  the  day, 
mainly  through  the  wooden  clumsiness  of  his  op- 
ponents. 

Were  there  any  real  attempts  to  get  Napoleon  away 
from  St.  Helena?  We  doubt  it.  On  one  occasion, 
after  receiving  despatches  from  Rio  Janeiro,  Lowe 
doubled,  and  even  tripled,  the  sentries  described  by 
Montchenu!  The  French  government  had,  indeed, 
discovered  a  "vast  and  complicated  plan"  to  seize 
Pernambuco,  where  there  were  said  to  be  two  thou- 
sand exiles,  and  with  this  force  to  do  something  un- 
explained to  remove  Napoleon.  A  Colonel  Latapie 
seems  to  have  had  the  credit  of  this  vast  and  com- 
plicated mare's  nest.  A  "submarine  vessel" — the 
constant  bug-bear  of  British  governments— capable 
of  being  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  all  day  and  of  un- 
natural activity  at  night,  was  being  constructed  by 
"  a  smuggler  of  an  uncommonly  resolute  character," 
called  Johnstone,  apparently  a  friend  of  O'Meara. 
H  113 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

But  the  structure  of  the  vessel  excited  suspicion,  and 
she  was  confiscated  before  completion  by  the  British 
government.  Our  great  Scottish  master  of  fiction 
narrates  all  this  without  a  vestige  of  a  smile.  An- 
other submarine  vessel  was  being  constructed  on, 
it  appears,  the  "Sommariva  system,"  at  Pernam- 
buco,  whence  most  of  these  legends  are  launched. 

If  Maceroni  can  be  believed,  which  is  at  the  least 
doubtful,  O'Meara,  on  his  return  from  St.  Helena, 
made  preparations  on  a  large  scale  for  the  rescue  of 
Napoleon.  "The  mighty  powers  of  steam,"  says 
Maceroni,  "were  mustered  to  our  assistance.  Brit- 
ish officers  volunteered  to  exchange  out  of  their  regi- 
ments in  Europe  in  order  to  contrive  being  put  on 
duty  at  St.  Helena.  But  I  cannot  enter  into  par- 
ticulars." This,  for  obvious  reasons,  we  regret. 
Maceroni,  however,  does  inform  us  more  specifically 
that  this  great  enterprise  split  on  the  money  diffi- 
culty, which  resolved  itself  into  a  vicious  circle. 
The  mother  of  Napoleon  was  willing  to  hand  over 
her  whole  fortune  in  return  for  the  accomplished 
rescue  of  her  son.  O'Meara  wanted  money  at  once 
for  the  purposes  of  the  scheme.  The  plan,  he  said, 
could  not  proceed  without  money :  the  money,  she 
said,  could  only  be  given  in  payment  for  its  success. 
So  the  conspiracy,  if  it  ever  existed,  came  to  an  end. 
The  family  of  Bonaparte  were  by  this  time  some- 
what wary  as  to  projects  of  rescue,  and  the  insepa- 
rable incident  of  a  demand  for  cash. 

Forsyth  happily  preserves  some  of  the  indications 
of  plots  for  escape  which  alarmed  our  government 
and  their  agent  at  St.  Helena.  Two  silly  and 
unintelligible  anonymous  letters  addressed  to  some 
merchants  in  London ;  another  with  "  an  obscure  al- 

114 


THE   QUESTION   OF   CUSTODY 

lusion  to  St.  Helena,  Cracow,  and  Philadelphia,"  ad- 
dressed to  a  gentleman  at  Cracow ;  news  of  a  fast-sail- 
ing vessel  being  equipped  by  a  person  named  Car- 
penter in  the  Hudson  River;  these  were  the  tidings 
that  kept  our  government  in  an  agony  of  precaution. 
But  even  Forsyth  breaks  down  in  the  narrative  of  a 
ghostly  vessel  which  harassed  our  government,  and 
intimates  that  it  must  have  been  The  Flying  Dutch- 
man. And  at  last  the  shadow  of  tragedy  comes  to 
darken  the  farce;  for,  a  few  months  before  the  end, 
Bathurst  expresses  the  belief  that  Napoleon  is  medi- 
tating escape.  The  supreme  escape  was,  indeed,  im- 
minent, for  death  was  at  heind. 

On  the  other  hand,  Montholon's  testimony  on  this 
subject  is  direct  and  simple  enough.  A  ship  captain 
oflFered,  according  to  Montholon,  on  two  occasions,  to 
get  Napoleon  off  in  a  boat.  A  million  francs  was  the 
price — to  be  paid  on  the  Emperor's  reaching  Ameri- 
can soil.  Napoleon  at  once  refused  to  entertain  the 
proposal.  And  Montholon  believes  that  under  no 
circumstances  would  he  have  entertained  it,  even 
had  a  boat  been  able  to  reach  the  only  possible 
point,  and,  what  was  also  necessary,  had  the  Em- 
peror been  able  to  conceal  himself  all  day  in  a  ra- 
vine, and  descend  at  night  to  the  coast,  with  the 
risk  of  breaking  his  neck  a  hundred  times  in  the 
process. 

Again,  Las  Cases  has  a  plan,  and  Gourgaud  thinks 
it  practicable.  Napoleon  "discusses  the  chances  of 
success,  but  distinctly  declares  that,  were  they  all 
favorable,  he  would,  none  the  less,  refuse  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  a  project  of  escape." 

Montholon,  after  this,  makes  an  entry  which  is 
significant  enough.     "A  plan  of  escape,"  he  says, 

"5 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

"is  submitted  to  the  Emperor.     He  listens  without 
interest,  and  calls  for  the  Historical  Dictionary. " 

Nor,  as  we  have  said,  do  we  think  that  Napoleon 
ever  entertained  the  idea  of  escaping  in  the  garb  of  a 
waiter,  or  in  a  basket  of  dirty  linen.  The  Russian 
government,  in  its  memorial  to  the  Congress  of  Aix- 
la-Chapelle  in  1818,  says  that  a  feasible  project  of 
escape  was  laid  before  the  Emperor.  It  was  to  have 
taken  place  on  the  evacuation  of  France  by  the  allied 
armies.  But  the  Emperor  postponed  it.  This,  how- 
ever, is  given  on  the  authority  of  Gourgaud,  and  is 
probably  one  of  the  fantastic  legends  with  which 
that  officer,  after  his  departure  from  Longwood, 
loved  to  tickle  the  irritable  credulity  of  Sir  Hudson 
Lowe. 

Did  he,  indeed,  wish  to  escape?  On  that  point  we 
have  the  strongest  doubts. 

Whither,  indeed,  could  he  fly  ?  The  United  States 
of  North  America,  his  original  choice  of  a  destination, 
seemed  the  only  possible  refuge;  and  yet  he  firmly 
believed  that  he  would  soon  be  assassinated  there  by 
the  emissaries  of  the  restored  government  in  France. 
To  all  proposals  of  escape  he  always  made,  according 
to  Montholon,  this  reply:  "I  should  not,"  he  said, 
"  be  six  months  in  America  without  being  murdered 
by  the  assassins  of  the  Comte  d'Artois.  Remember 
Elba — was  not  my  assassination  concerted  there? 
But  for  that  brave  Corsican,  who  had  accidentally 
been  placed  as  quartermaster  of  gendarmerie  at  Bas- 
tia,  and  who  warned  me  of  the  departure  for  Porto 
Ferrajo  of  the  garde-du-corps,  who  afterwards  con- 
fessed all  to  Drouot,  I  was  a  dead  man.  Besides,  one 
must  always  obey  one's  destiny,  for  all  is  written 
above.    Only  my  martyrdom  can  restore  the  crown  to 

n6 


THE   QUESTION   OF   CUSTODY 

my  dynasty.  In  America  I  shall  only  be  murdered 
or  forgotten.  I  prefer  St.  Helena."  When  another 
plan  is  presented  to  him,  he  again  lays  stress  on  the 
dynastic  argument.  "It  is  best  for  my  son  that  I 
should  remain  here.  If  he  lives,  my  martyrdom  will 
restore  his  crown  to  him." 

For  a  man  in  middle  life,  corpulent  and  listless, 
to  attempt,  under  any  circumstances,  to  leave  a  lone- 
ly rock,  garrisoned  by  a  large  military  force  and  sur- 
rounded by  vigilant  cruisers,  in  order  to  reach,  after 
a  long  and  perilous  passage  by  ocean,  a  country 
where  he  believed  he  would  be  murdered,  seems  pre- 
posterous. And  yet  these  are  the  facts  of  the  case. 
But  in  one  respect  they  are  understated,  as  they  omit 
the  most  material  fact  of  all. 

For  Napoleon  was  no  longer  what  he  had  been. 
He  himself  had  laid  down  the  law,  tersely  and  in- 
imitably, for  himself  and  others,  on  this  subject. 
"Ordener  is  worn  out,"  he  had  said  at  Austerlitz  of 
one  of  his  generals.  "  One  has  but  a  short  time  for 
war.  I  am  good  for  another  six  years,  and  then  I 
shall  have  to  stop."  Strangely  enough,  his  judg- 
ment was  exactly  verified.  Six  years  and  a  month 
from  Austerlitz  would  have  brought  him  to  1 812,  to 
the  Russian  campaign,  which,  had  he  observed  his 
own  rule,  he  would  have  avoided.  It  is  noteworthy 
that  throughout  181 2,  and  notably  at  the  battle  of 
Borodino,  when  he  was  prostrate,  those  attached  to 
his  person,  like  S^gur,  observed  a  remarkable  change 
in  his  health  and  energy.  S^gur,  indeed,  seems  to 
attribute  the  morbid  and  feverish  activity  which 
drove  him  into  that  fatal  expedition  to  constitutional 
disease.  Some  vivid  scraps  of  the  note-book  of  Duroc, 
his  closest  attendant  and  friend,  relating  to  the  begin- 

117 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

ning  of  this  war,  have  been  preserved,  which  confirm 
this  view :  "  Aug.  7. — The  Emperor  in  great  physical 
pain ;  he  took  opium  prepared  by  M^thivier.  '  Duroc, 
one  must  march  or  die.  An  Emperor  dies  standing, 
and  so  does  not  die.  .  .  .  We  must  bring  this  fever  of 
doubt  to  an  end.'"  On  his  return  the  change  was 
more  marked.  Chaptal,  a  scientific  observer  of  his 
master,  says  that  it  was  remarkable.  Napoleon  had 
become  stout  in  1809,  and  had  then  to  some  extent 
degenerated.  But  after  Moscow  Chaptal  observed  a 
much  greater  transformation.  There  was  a  notable 
failure  in  the  sequence  of  his  ideas.  His  conversa- 
tion consisted  mainly  of  incoherent  and  imaginative 
bursts.  There  was  no  longer  the  same  force  of  char- 
acter ;  not  the  same  passion  or  power  of  work.  Rid- 
ing fatigued  him.  Somnolence  and  the  pleasures  of 
the  table  gained  on  him.  It  is  true  that,  with  his  back 
to  the  wall,  he  fought  an  unrivalled  campaign  of  de- 
fence and  despair.  But  this  was  the  last  flash  of  the 
Conqueror.  He  did  not,  indeed,  cease  to  be  a  great 
captain.  He  could  still  plan  in  the  cabinet.  But  he 
was  no  longer  so  formidable  or  so  active  in  the  field. 
The  matchless  supremacy  of  his  youth  had  passed 
away. 

At  Elba,  again,  he  physically  degenerated.  A  ter- 
rible activity  had  become  necessary  to  his  life.  The 
suppressed  energy,  the  necessary  change  of  habits,  in- 
jured his  health.  He  became  enormously  fat;  this 
was  the  great  change  that  struck  his  adherents  on 
his  return  to  the  Tuileries  in  the  following  March. 
He  indeed  used  this  circumstance  as  an  argument  to 
prove  his  change  of  character  in  a  manner  that  sug- 
gests a  reminiscence  of  Shakespeare.  Striking  his 
stomach  with  both  hands,  "  Is  one  ambitious  when 

ii8 


THE   QUESTION   OF   CUSTODY 

one  is  as  fat  as  I  am?"  He  had  no  longer  that  "  lean 
and  hungry  look  "  that  denotes  the  "  dangerous  "  man 
who  "thinks  too  much."  It  was,  moreover,  soon 
clear  that  his  health  was  broken.  His  brother  Lucien 
found  him  ill,  wrote  details  which  are  not  printed, 
and  assured  M.  Thiers  that  his  brother  was  suffering 
from  a  bladder  complaint.  Thiers  had  other  evi- 
dence to  the  same  effect,  though  he  holds,  and  Hous- 
saye  with  him,  that  Napoleon's  energy  disproves  the 
probability  of  serious  ailment.  Savary  testifies  that 
he  could  scarcely  sit  his  horse  on  the  battle-field.  La- 
vallette,  who  saw  him  the  night  he  left  Paris  for 
Flanders,  says  that  he  was  then  suffering  severely 
from  his  chest.  In  any  case,  it  was  abundantly  evi- 
dent that  the  Napoleon  who  returned  in  March,  1815, 
was  very  different  from  the  Napoleon  who  had  left  in 
April,  1 81 4. 

We  will  go  so  far  as  to  risk  an  opinion  that  when 
he  returned  from  Elba  he  had  realized  that  his  career 
as  a  conqueror  was  over.  In  Elba  he  had  had  leisure, 
for  the  first  time  since  he  attained  power,  tp  take  stock, 
calmly  and  coldly,  of  his  situation,  and  to  remember 
his  own  maxim  as  to  the  limited  period  of  life  during 
which  war  can  be  carried  on  with  success.  We  think, 
then,  that  he  understood  that  his  period  of  conquest 
was  past.  But  this  is  not  to  say  that  his  headstrong 
and  imperious  temperament  could  ever  have  been 
shaped  into  anything  like  a  constitutional  ruler,  or 
that  he  could  have  restrained  himself  or  his  army  into 
permanent  pacification  With  his  marshals  he  would, 
we  think,  have  had  no  difificulty.  But  his  pretorians 
would  hardly  have  been  so  easy  to  satisfy.  The  lim- 
itation of  his  frontier,  too,  would  have  been  a  goad  as 
well  as  an  eyesore.     Against  these  we  balance  the 

119 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

partial  exhaustion  of  his  people  and  of  himself,  facts 
to  which  he  could  scarcely  have  been  permanently 
blind. 

During  the  Hundred  Days,  though  he  displayed 
what  in  another  man  would  have  been  energy,  he 
had  ceased  to  be  Napoleon.  He  was  a  changed, 
doomed  man.  "  I  cannot  resist  the  conviction,"  says 
Pasquier,  who  was  in  constant  contact  with  the  men 
who  surrounded  hirn,  "  that  his  genius  and  his  physi- 
cal powers  were  alike  in  a  profound  decline.''  He 
allowed  himself  to  be  bullied  by  his  new  legislature, 
and  displayed  a  certain  helplessness  which  was  a 
new  and  ominous  sign.  We  are  told,  on  the  author- 
ity of  Sismondi,  that  his  ministers,  to  their  astonish- 
ment, would  constantly  find  him  asleep  over  a  book. 
Another  of  the  strange  new  features  of  that  period 
was  a  tendency  to  hold  endless  conversations,  which 
must  have  occupied  much  precious  time,  and  which 
betrayed  a  secret  perplexity,  very  strange  to  him. 
Even  on  the  eve  of  Waterloo,  on  the  battle-field,  to 
the  amazement  of  Gerard  and  Grouchy,  he  wastes 
precious  time  in  discoursing  to  them  about  politics 
in  Paris,  the  Chamber  and  the  Jacobins.  This  dis- 
cursiveness was  partly  due,  says  Mollien,  to  a  lassi- 
tude which  would  overcome  him  after  a  few  hours' 
work.  When  this  novel  sensation  came  over  him  he 
sought  rest  and  distraction  in  talk.  But  the  salient 
proof  of  the  change  lay  in  his  dealings  with  Fouch^. 
He  had  not  the  energy  to  deal  with  Fouche.  His 
main  regret  in  reviewing  that  period  at  St.  Helena 
was  that  he  had  not  hanged  or  shot  Fouche.  But 
during  the  Hundred  Days — nay,  from  the  moment  he 
arrives  in  Paris  to  the  moment  he  boards  the  Bellero- 
phon — he  is  fooled  by  Fouche,  betrayed  by  Fouch^ 

120 


THE   QUESTION   OF   CUSTODY 

and  probably  delivered  over  to  the  British  by  Fouch6. 
Napoleon  suffers  all  this  patiently,  though  not  ig- 
norantly.  He  took  a  course,  indeed,  which  combined 
the  errors  of  all  possible  courses.  He  told  Fouch6 
that  his  intrigues  were  discovered,  and  kept  Fouch6 
as  minister  of  police. 

At  last  he  shakes  off  the  dust  of  Paris,  its  Parlia- 
ment and  its  traitors,  and  joins  his  army.  It  might 
be  thought  that  in  the  air  of  battle  he  would  regain 
his  strength.  But  it  was  not  so.  The  strategy  by 
which  he  silently  and  swiftly  launched  his  army  into 
Flanders  was  indeed  a  combination  worthy  of  his  best 
days.  But  on  his  arrival  at  the  scene  of  war,  his 
vigilant  vitality,  once  superhuman,  had  forsaken 
him.  He,  formerly  so  keen  for  exact  news  of  the 
enemy,  seemed  scarcely  to  care  to  know  or  inquire 
the  movements  of  the  allied  armies.  He,  once  so 
electrically  rapid,  had  ceased  to  value  time.  His  ce- 
lerity of  movement  had  been  of  the  essence  of  his 
earlier  victories.  But  on  the  morning  of  Ligny,  and 
on  the  succeeding  day,  he  lost  many  precious  hours, 
and  so,  perhaps,  the  campaign.  He  himself  ac- 
knowledges that,  had  he  not  been  so  tired,  he  should 
have  been  on  horseback  all  the  night  before  Waterloo ; 
though,  as  it  was,  he  mounted  his  horse  an  hour  after 
midnight  and  rode  till  dawn. 

Then  comes  the  supreme  battle.  Napoleon  appears 
to  have  watched  it  with  some  apathj^  and,  on  seeing 
the  catastrophe,  to  have  calmly  remarked,  "  //  parait 
qu'ils  sont  mel^s,"  and  walked  his  horse  off  the  field. 

He  flies  to  Paris,  and  there  he  is  the  same.  He 
arrives  at  the  Elys^e  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  on 
June  21  st.  He  is  received  on  the  steps  by  Caulain- 
court,  whose  tender  and  faithful  arm  supports  him 

121 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

into  the  palace.  The  army,  he  says,  had  done  won- 
ders, but  had  been  seized  by  a  panic.  Ney,  Hke  a 
madman,  had  sacrificed  his  cavalry.  He  himself  is 
suffocated,  exhausted;  he  throws  himself  into  a  hot 
bath,  and  convokes  his  ministers.  Lavallette  saw 
him  that  morning,  and  gives,  in  a  few  words,  a 
ghastly,  speaking  picture  of  his  appearance:  "As 
soon  as  he  saw  me  he  came  to  me  with  a  fearful  epi- 
leptic laugh.  'Ah,  my  God!  my  God!'  he  said, 
raising  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  paced  two  or  three 
times  round  the  room.  This  emotion  was  only  tem- 
porary; he  soon  recovered  his  self-command,  and 
asked  what  was  happening  at  the  Chambers. "  He 
recognized  afterwards  that  he  should  have  gone  that 
day,  as  it  was  urged  on  him,  booted  and  muddy,  to 
the  Chambers,  have  harangued  them,  have  tried  the 
effect  of  his  magnetic  individuality,  and,  had  they 
remained  insensible,  have  entered  their  sitting  in 
Cromwellian  fashion.  He  should,  too,  he  acknowl- 
edges, have  had  Fouche  shot  at  once.  Instead  of 
this,  he  holds  a  council,  from  which  Fouche,  by  his 
side,  sends  notes  to  rally  the  opposition  in  Parlia- 
ment. As  the  council  proceeds,  the  results  of  the 
traitor's  manipulation  become  manifest.  There  is 
distress,  and  there  is  despair.  The  loyal  adherents, 
the  princes  of  his  house,  implore  the  Emperor  to 
show  energy;  Napoleon  sits  numb.  His  carriage 
stands  horsed  in  the  court-yard  ready  to  take  him  to 
the  Chambers ;  it  is  sent  away.  In  the  face  of  treach- 
ery and  opposition  and  intrigue  he  remains  passive 
and  resourceless.  At  last,  at  a  second  council,  he 
mechanically  signs  his  abdication,  his  antechambers 
empty  at  once,  and  his  palace  becomes  a  desert. 
But  outside  the  soldiers  and  the  mviltitude  clamor 

122 


THE   QUESTION   OF   CUSTODY 

for  him;  they  adjure  him  not  to  desert  them,  but  to 
organize  and  head  a  national  resistance.  A  word 
from  him,  says  his  brother,  would  have  put  an  end 
to  his  domestic  foes.  This  is  an  exaggeration,  for 
Lafayette  had  utilized  the  time  which  the  Emperor 
had  lost,  and  secured  the  National  Guard.  But  the 
enthusiasm  was  formidable.  It  might  have  been  the 
precursor  of  a  successful  revolution,  had  the  Em- 
peror cared  to  utilize  it  in  that  way.  At  any  rate,  it 
alarms  Fouche  and  his  satellites ;  they  send  the  Em- 
peror a  hint,  and  he  at  once  retires  from  his  capital 
and  his  friends,  sending  his  own  carriage  empty 
through  the  crowd  of  his  adherents,  as  if  they  were 
his  enemies,  and  hurrying  off  in  another. 

He  retreats  to  Malmaison,  where  he  is  practically 
a  prisoner.  He  will  not  move ;  he  will  not  give  an 
order ;  he  sits  reading  novels.  He  will  arrange  nei- 
ther for  resistance  nor  for  flight.  One  day  decides 
both.  He  is  induced  to  off^er  his  services  as  general 
to  the  provisional  government.  The  reply  he  re- 
ceives is  a  direction  to  leave  the  country.  He  obeys 
without  a  word,  and  leaves  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Arrived  at  Rochefort,  he  shows  the  same  apathy, 
the  same  indecision,  the  same  unconsciousness  of 
the  value  of  every  moment.  It  seems  clear  that,  had 
he  acted  with  promptitude,  he  had  reasonable  chances 
of  escaping  to  America.  His  brother  Joseph  had 
offered  him  one  opportunity.  Joseph,  who  bore  a 
strong  resemblance  to  the  Emperor,  proposed  to 
change  places  with  him,  and  let  Napoleon  embark 
in  the  American  vessel  in  which  he  himself  after- 
wards escaped.  But  Napoleon  declared  that  any- 
thing in  the  nature  of  a  disguise  was  beneath  his 
dignity,  though  he  had  certainly  not  held  this  opin- 

123 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

ion  on  his  way  to  Elba.  Again  he  might  have  at- 
tempted flight  in  a  neutral  (Danish)  ship,  or  in  a 
chassemaree  (a  swift,  masted,  coasting  vessel),  or 
in  a  frigate.  Some  young  naval  officers  offered 
themselves  as  the  crew  either  of  a  chassemaree  or  a 
rowing-boat  which  should  steal  through  the  blockade. 
But  the  frigate  offered  the  best  chances  of  success, 
and  Maitland,  in  his  narrative,  admits  that  these 
were  not  slight.  There  were  at  the  lie  d' Aix  at  that 
moment  two  French  frigates,  besides  smaller  vessels. 
One  of  the  captains  was  doubtful,  if  not  hostile ;  but 
the  other  implored  Napoleon  to  take  the  chance.  He 
would  attack  the  British  ship,  while  the  Emperor 
escaped  in  the  other  frigate.  In  former  days  the 
Emperor  would  not  have  hesitated  to  intrust  Caesar 
and  his  fortunes  to  such  a  hazard.  But  now  he 
seemed  under  some  maleficent  charm  or  blight. 
He  dawdled  about,  summoned  councils  of  his  suite 
to  ask  their  advice  as  to  what  he  had  better  do,  dis- 
played his  every  movement  to  the  watchful  enemy, 
did,  in  fact,  everything  that  a  few  years  before  he 
would  have  despised  any  one  for  doing.  At  last  he 
surrenders  himself,  helplessly,  to  the  Bellerophon, 
where  he  sits  dozing  over  Ossian  on  the  deck.  His 
suite  confess  to  Maitland  that  much  of  his  bodily 
activity  and  mental  energy  has  disappeared. 

Once  only  in  that  voyage  did  his  apathy  forsake 
him.  At  dawn,  one  morning,  when  the  ship  was 
making  Ushant,  the  watch,  to  their  unspeakable 
surprise,  saw  the  Emperor  issue  from  his  cabin  and 
make  his  way,  with  some  difficulty,  to  the  poop. 
Arrived  there,  he  asked  the  officer  on  duty  if  the 
coast  were  indeed  Ushant,  and  then,  taking  a  tele- 
scope, he  gazed  fixedly  at  the  land.     From  seven 

124 


THE   QUESTION   OF   CUSTODY 

till  near  noon  he  thus  remained  motionless.  Neither 
the  officers  of  the  ship,  nor  his  staff  as  they  watched 
him,  durst  disturb  that  agony.  At  last,  as  the  out- 
line faded  from  his  sight,  he  turned  his  ghastly  face, 
concealing  it  as  best  he  could,  and  clutched  at  the 
arm  of  Bertrand,  who  supported  him  back  to  his 
cabin.     It  was  his  last  sight  of  France. 

At  St.  Helena  his  lethargy  becomes  naturally  more 
marked ;  it  amazes  himself.  He  spends  hours  in  his 
bed,  and  hours  in  his  bath.  He  soon  ceases  to  dress 
till  late  in  the  afternoon.  He  is  surprised  to  find  that 
he  is  happiest  in  bed,  he  for  whom  the  whole  day  had 
once  been  all  too  short. 

And  this  is  the  man  who,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
British  government  and  Sir  Hudson  Lowe,  was 
likely  to  glide  down  an  inaccessible  rock,  unp)er- 
ceived  by  ubiquitous  sentries,  and,  in  some  unex- 
plained manner,  pass  vigilant  vessels  of  war,  in  order 
once  more  to  disturb  the  world.  It  is  safe  to  say  that, 
had  he  effected  the  impossible  and  escaped,  he  could 
never  have  seriously  disturbed  the  world  again,  ex- 
cept as  a  tradition.*  But  it  was  impossible  for  him 
to  escape.  Even  had  he  been  allowed  to  range  over 
the  whole  island,  had  all  the  sentries  been  removed, 
it  was  out  of  the  question  for  him,  in  his  physical 
condition,  given  a  reasonable  police  and  watchful 
cruisers,  to  leave  the  island  without  the  connivance 
of  the  governor.  Napoleon  himself,  though  he  some- 
times hoped  to  leave  St.  Helena,  never,  we  are  con- 

•  Scott,  indeed,  disputes  this  view  by  telling  an  anecdote  which 
had  greatly  amused  Napoleon  himself.  A  grenadier,  who  saw 
him  as  he  landed  at  St.  Helena,  exclaimed  :  "  They  told  us  he  was 
growing  old ;  he  has  forty  good  campaigns  in  his  belly  yet,  damn 
him." 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST  PHASE 

vinced,  even  thought  of  escape,  though  Gourgaud 
records  a  jesting  scheme  for  this  purpose,  launched 
by  the  Emperor,  amid  laughter,  after  dinner.  He 
based  such  meagre  hopes  as  he  entertained  on  the 
opposition  party  in  Parliament,  or  on  Princess  Char- 
lotte's succession  to  the  crown.  And  so  he  desires 
Malcolm  and  Gourgaud  to  set  forth  all  his  grievances 
to  that  princess. 

Napoleon  had  the  faculty,  when  he  chose,  of  cre- 
ating a  fool's  paradise  for  himself.  In  the  Russian 
campaign  he  had,  for  example,  ordered  his  marshals 
to  operate  with  armies  which  he  knew  had  ceased  to 
exist.  When  they  remonstrated,  he  simply  replied : 
"Why  rob  me  of  my  calm?"  When  the  allies  in- 
vaded France  he  professed  to  rely  greatly  on  the 
army  of  Marshal  Macdonald.  "Would  you  like," 
said  the  marshal  to  Beugnot,  "to  review  my  army? 
It  will  not  take  you  long.  It  consists  of  myself  and 
my  chief  of  the  staff.  Our  supplies  are  four  straw 
chairs  and  a  plank  table."  Again,  during  the  cam- 
paign of  1814,  the  Emperor  was  detailing  his  plans 
to  Marmont.  Marmont  was  to  do  this  and  that  with 
his  corps  of  ten  thousand  men.  At  each  repetition  of 
this  figure  Marmont  interrupted  to  say  that  he  had 
only  three.  Yet  Napoleon  persisted  to  the  end: 
"Marmont  with  his  ten  thousand  men."  But  the 
strangest  instance  of  this  is  detailed  by  Meneval, 
who  tells  us  that  when  the  Emperor  added  up  num- 
bers of  his  soldiers  he  always  added  them  up  wrong, 
and  always  swelled  the  total.  So  at  St.  Helena  he 
really,  we  think,  brought  himself  to  believe  that  he 
would  be  released  when  Lord  Holland  became  prime 
minister,  or  when  Princess  Charlotte  ascended  the 
throne.     He  sometimes  even  professed  to  be  per- 

126 


THE   QUESTION   OF   CUSTODY 

suaded  that  the  expense  of  his  detention  would  in- 
duce the  British  government  to  agree  to  his  hber- 
ation.  Reports  of  the  most  amazing  character  were 
occasionally  brought  to  Longwood,  the  invention, 
we  should  imagine,  of  the  Jamestown  gossips. 
O'Meara  informs  Napoleon  one  day,  for  example, 
that  the  Imperial  Guard  has  retired  into  the  Ce- 
vennes  and  that  all  France  is  in  insurrection.  All 
that  we  are  told  of  the  effect  of  this  sensational 
news  is  that  the  Emperor  plays  reversi.  Another 
day  Montholon  returns  from  Jamestown,  where  he 
has  read  the  newspapers,  and  declares  that  all  France 
demands  the  Emperor,  that  there  is  a  universal  rising 
in  his  favor,  and  that  Britain  is  at  the  last  gasp. 
We  doubt  if  he  put  the  slightest  faith  in  this  sort  of 
report.  He  had,  we  suspect,  very  little  hope  of  any 
kind.  But  such  hope  as  he  had  rested  on  Princess 
Charlotte  and  Lord  Holland.  Lord  HoUsind,  be- 
cause he,  and,  what  was  more  important.  Lady 
Holland,  had  enthusiastically  espoused  his  cause; 
Princess  Charlotte,  partly  because  she  was  supposed 
to  have  expressed  sympathy  for  him,  partly,  per- 
haps, because  she  had  married  Prince  Leopold, 
who  had  wished  to  be  his  aide-de-camp.  "That," 
said  the  Emperor,  "is  a  lucky  fellow  not  to  have 
been  named  my  aide-de-camp  when  he  asked  for  it; 
for,  had  he  been  appointed,  he  would  not  now  be  on 
the  steps  of  the  English  throne." 

There  was,  indeed,  one  source  of  peril,  of  which 
both  Lowe  and  the  French  commissioner  were  well 
aware,  against  which  it  was  difficult  to  guard — the 
personal  fascination  exercised  by  the  captive.  Mont- 
chenu  constantly  deplores  this  ominous  fact.  Every 
one,  he  says,  leaves  Napoleon's  presence  in  a  state 

127 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

of  the  greatest  enthusiasm.  "Were  I  you/' said  the 
marquis  to  the  governor,  "  I  would  not  allow  a  single 
stranger  to  visit  Longwood,  for  they  all  leave  it  in 
a  transport  of  devotion,  which  they  take  back  with 
them  to  Europe."  "What  is  most  astonishing," 
says  the  Russian  commissioner,  "  is  the  ascendancy 
that  this  man,  dethroned,  a  prisoner,  surrounded  by 
guards  and  keepers,  exercises  on  all  who  come  near 
him.  Everything  at  St.  Helena  bears  the  impress 
of  his  superiority.  The  French  tremble  at  his  aspect, 
and  think  themselves  too  happy  to  serve  him.  .  .  . 
The  English  no  longer  approach  him  but  with  awe. 
Even  his  guardians  seek  anxiously  for  a  word  or  a 
look  from  him.  No  one  dares  to  treat  him  as  an 
equal."  These  alarming  facts  were  coupled  with 
the  not  less  alarming  good -nature  of  the  captive. 
He  would  go  into  a  cottage,  sit  down  and  chat  with 
the  people,  who  would  receive  "Sir  Emperor''  with 
awful  joy.  He  would  talk  to  slaves  and  give  them 
money.  He  threatened,  indeed,  to  become  beloved. 
The  governor  was  frightened  out  of  his  wits  at  this 
new  and  indefinable  menace  to  the  security  of  the 
island,  so  he  at  once  retrenched  the  boundaries  so 
that  no  cottages  could  be  within  them. 


CHAPTER  IX 

LORD  BATHURST 

"Nothing,"  wrote  the  Russian  commissioner  to 
his  government  after  near  three  years'  experience 
at  St.  Helena,  "can  be  more  absurd,  more  impohtic, 
less  generous  and  less  delicate  than  the  conduct  of 
the  English  to  Napoleon."  It  would  not  be  fair  or 
just,  however,  to  debit  Lowe  or  Cockbum  with  the 
responsibility  for  these  ignominies,  or  for  the  general 
principle  of  the  Emperor's  treatment.  They  were 
only  the  somewhat  narrow  and  coarse  agents  of  a 
sordid  and  brutal  policy.  It  was  the  British  min- 
istry which  is  answerable,  jointly  and  severally,  for 
the  treatment  of  Napoleon;  and  which,  strangely 
enough,  is  equally  condemned  by  the  partisans  of 
Lowe.  "Worst  of  all,"  says  the  governor's  most 
efficient  advocate,  "...  was  the  conduct  of  the 
British  government,  which,  viewed  in  itself,  was 
utterly  undignified ;  viewed  from  Sir  Hudson  Lowe's 
stand-point  was  unfair  and  treacherous."  When, 
however,  we  remember  who  and  what  these  ministers 
were,  we  cease  to  marvel.  Vandal,  in  one  of  the  most 
eloquent  passages  of  his  noble  history,  points  out 
that  the  eventual  victory  of  Great  Britain  over  Na- 
poleon was  the  victory  of  persistency  over  genius. 
"The  men  who  governed  in  London,  flimg  by  the 
illness  of  George  III.  into  a  chaos  of  difficulties, 
I  129 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

placed  between  a  mad  King  and  a  discredited  Regent, 
exposed  to  the  virulent  attacks  of  the  opposition,  to 
the  revolt  of  injured  interests,  to  the  complaints  of 
the  City,  face  to  face  with  a  people  without  bread,  and 
with  an  almost  ruined  commerce  .  .  .  sometimes 
despair  of  even  maintaining  Wellington  at  Lisbon. 
But  in  their  extreme  peril,  none  of  them  think  of 
yielding — of  askirig,  or  even  accepting,  peace — or  of 
sacrificing  the  British  cause  or  British  pride/'  Rare- 
ly, he  continues,  have  men  displayed  more  admira- 
ble proofs  of  cool  and  obstinate  courage.  "Yet, 
who  are  these  men?  Among  them  there  is  not  a 
single  minister  of  great  renown,  of  a  glorious  past, 
of  a  superior  intelligence.  The  successors  of  Pitt  .  .  . 
have  only  inherited  his  constancy,  his  tenacity,  his 
hatred.  But,  knowing  that  they  bear  the  destinies 
of  their  country,  and  of  the  world,  they  derive  from 
that  consciousness  a  virtue  of  energy  and  patience 
which  makes  them  equal  to  the  greatest."  Liver- 
pool, Eldon,  Bathurst,  Castlereagh,  and  Sidmouth 
were  men  whose  names  can  scarcely  be  said  to  glow 
in  history.  They  had,  however,  felt  doggedly  that 
they  must  fight  it  out  to  the  bitter  end;  and,  sup- 
ported throughout  by  the  victories  of  their  navy 
and  the  grim  patience  of  their  people,  as  well  as, 
latterly,  by  military  success,  had  pulled  through  and 
emerged  victorious.  But  victory  had  not  taught  them 
magnanimity.  They  had  caught  their  great  enemy : 
their  first  wish  was  to  get  somebody  else  to  shoot 
him  or  hang  him,  failing  which,  they  were  deter- 
mined to  lock  him  up  like  a  pickpocket.  All  that 
they  saw  clearly  was  that  he  had  cost  them  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  and  a  great  deal  of  money,  so  that  he 
must  cost  them  as  little  more  as  possible.  They  were 
_      130 


LORD   BATHURST 

honest  men,  acting  up  to  their  hghts;  we  can  only- 
regret  that  the  men  were  dull  and  the  lights  were 
dim. 

The  minister  charged  with  carrying  out  this  policy 
was  Lord  Bathurst,  secretary  of  state  for  the  joint 
department  of  War  and  the  Colonies. 

Who  was  Bathurst? 

It  is  difficult  to  say.  He  was,  we  know,  grandson 
of  that  secular  Lord  Bathurst  who,  sixty  years  after 
his  first  elevation  to  the  peerage,  was  created  an  earl, 
and  who,  in  the  last  months  of  his  life,  in  his  ninety- 
first  year,  was  the  subject  of  a  famous  apostrophe  by 
Burke.  He  was,  we  know,  son  of  that  second  Lord 
Bathurst  who  was  the  least  capable  of  chancellors. 
He  himself  was  one  of  those  strange  children  of  our 
political  system  who  fill  the  most  dazzling  offices 
with  the  most  complete  obscurity.  He  had  presided 
over  the  Foreign  Office.  He  was  now,  and  was  for  a 
term  of  fifteen  years,  a  secretary  of  state.  Yet  even 
our  most  microscopic  biographical  dictionary  may 
be  searched  in  vain  for  more  than  a  dry  recital  of  the 
offices  that  he  filled,  the  date  of  his  birth,  and  the 
date  of  his  death. 

He  was  now  in  charge  of  Napoleon.  He  tersely 
instructed  Lowe  that  the  Emperor  was  to  be  treated, 
till  further  orders,  as  a  prisoner  of  war,  but  that  he 
was  to  be  allowed  "every  indulgence  which  may  be 
consistent  with  the  entire  security  of  his  person." 
He  then  passed  through  Parliament  an  act  of  Dra- 
conian, but  perhaps  necessary,  severity.  Any  British 
subject  who  should  assist  in  Napoleon's  escape,  or, 
after  his  escape,  assist  him  on  the  high  seas,  was  to 
be  punished  with  death  without  benefit  of  clergy. 
Lowe,  by  the  bye,  used  to  allude  to  this  act  in  deli- 

131 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

cate  raillery  of  the  commissioners.  "  After  all,  I  can- 
not hang  you,"  he  would  say.  Meanwhile  Bathurst 
was  tightening  the  screw.  Eight  thousand  pounds 
was  to  be  the  limit  of  Napoleon's  expenditure  on 
table  and  household;  he  was  to  pay  all  his  own 
followers  and  servants,  and  the  household  was  at 
once  to  be  reduced  by  the  magical  number  of  four; 
no  names  or  degrees  were  specified,  so  that  it  was 
clearly  an  economy  of  four  mouths  that  was  aimed 
at.  The  remainder  were  to  be  persuaded  to  leave 
him,  as  their  residence  in  the  island  added  greatly 
to  the  expense.  It  may  be  presumed,  therefore,  that 
the  "indulgence,  consistent,"  after  all,  "with  the 
entire  security  of  his  person" — of  intercourse  with 
a  few  fellow-countrymen,  and  of  the  attendance  of 
his  old  servants  —  was  to  be,  if  practicable,  with- 
drawn. Lowe,  moreover,  was  to  draw  the  bonds 
more  straitly  than  Cockburn.  No  communication 
was  to  reach  Napoleon  except  through  Lowe.  The 
faculty  accorded  to  Bertrand  by  the  admiral  of 
giving  cards  of  admission  which  would  enable  visit- 
ors to  Napoleon  to  pass  the  sentries  was  withdrawn. 
A  declaration  was  to  be  signed  by  all  the  French 
courtiers  and  servants  of  the  Emperor  that  they 
would  submit  to  all  regulations  imposed  on  their 
master,  and  so  forth.  He  attached  great  importance 
to  enclosing  Napoleon  in  a  sort  of  area  railing  which 
he  despatched  from  England,  and  which  should  add 
the  final  precaution  to  security.  "We  consider  it," 
he  writes,  "a  very  essential  point,  particularly  until 
the  iron  railing  shall  arrive,  to  ascertain,  late  in  the 
evening  and  early  in  the  morning,  that  he  is  safe." 
But  it  seems  to  have  been  found  inexpedient  to  carry 
constraint  too  far.     For  the  interest  in  the  captive 

132 


LORD   BATHURST 

was  intense.  Every  scrap  of  news  from  St.  Helena 
was  eagerly  devoured  by  the  public.  The  craving 
for  each  fragment  of  intelligence  was  so  great  that 
it  was  scarcely  possible  to  preserve  from  the  avidity 
of  the  press  the  most  private  letters  written  from  St. 
Helena.  A  lady  who  came  from  there  in  1817  nar- 
rates how,  on  landing  at  Portsmouth,  persons  of  all 
ranks  seemed  ready  to  tear  the  passengers  in  pieces 
for  information  about  the  captive.  And,  as  soon  as 
they  reached  the  hotel,  strangers  brought  portraits  of 
Napoleon  to  have  the  likeness  attested.  Warden's 
worthless  book  was  for  the  same  reason  extremely 
popular.  Santini's  not  less  worthless  book  was  not 
less  popular.  It  went  through  seven  editions  in  a 
fortnight.     So,  at  least,  its  author  declares. 

Lord  Holland,  too,  raised  in  the  House  of  Lords  a 
debate  on  the  treatment  of  Napoleon.  And  from  this 
time  forth  there  reigns  a  blander  tone  in  the  regula- 
tions of  Bathurst.  His  next  letter  to  Lowe,  written  a 
month  after  the  debate,  is  couched  in  a  spirit  that  may 
almost  be  deemed  urbane.  "  You  may  assure  him  of 
your  disposition  to  make  his  situation  more  comfort- 
able by  a  supply  of  the  publications  of  the  day.  .  .  . 
I  think  it  right  also  to  add  that  there  exists  in  this 
country  no  indisposition  to  allow  him  the  gratifica- 
tions of  the  table — more  especially  of  wine."  And 
later  on  in  the  same  year  he  expands  the  limit  of  even 
£12,000  a  year,  if  that  sum  be  inadequate  for  "such 
an  establishment  as  would  be  requisite  for  a  general 
officer  of  distinction. "  (Napoleon,  it  will  be  observed, 
has  gradually  risen  from  a  "  general  not  in  employ  " 
to  "a  general  officer  of  distinction.") 

Bathurst  seems  to  have  been  in  all  respects  as 
worthy  of  Lowe  as  Lowe  of  Bathurst,  and  to  both 

133 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

there  was  a  common  standard  of  tact  and  taste. 
Take  the  following  specimen.  Rats  are  the  curse 
of  St.  Helena,  and  on  this  subject  the  secretary  of 
state  writes  to  the  governor :  "  You  will  also  receive 
a  private  letter  from  Mr.  Goulburn  on  the  great  in- 
convenience to  which  he  (Napoleon)  is  said  to  be 
exposed  by  the  quantity  of  rats  with  which  his  house 
is  infested.  There  is  something  so  ludicrous  in  a 
fallen  leader's  complaint  on  such  a  subject,  and  is  one 
so  little  in  unison  with  the  animal's  alleged  sagacity, 
that  it  is  not  a  topic  likely  from  choice  to  be  brought 
forward  as  a  grievance;  but  the  number  of  these  ani- 
mals may  amount  to  be  a  real  one;  and  though  I 
have  reason  to  believe  that  the  increase  is  owing  to 
the  negligence  of  his  servants,  in  which  he  is  very 
toilling  to  encourage  them,  yet  it  is  fit  on  every  account 
that  the  subject  should  be  examined  and  a  proper 
remedy  applied."  We  cannot  call  to  mind  any  com- 
plaint of  Napoleon's  on  the  subject,  though  his  house 
was  overrun  with  these  disgusting  vermin.  But  the 
graceful  allusions  of  the  secretary  of  state,  which  we 
have  italicized,  lose  none  of  their  point  from  this  cir- 
cumstance; though  he  may  be  held  to  be  going  a 
little  too  far  when  he  hints  that  the  Emperor,  always 
scrupulously  dainty  in  such  things,  wilfully  encour- 
aged the  negligence  of  his  servants  in  order  to  promote 
the  increase  of  rats. 

When  Napoleon  is  dying  Bathurst  touches  a  note 
which  is  almost  sublime.  ''  If  he  be  really  ill, "  writes 
the  secretary  of  state,  "  he  may  derive  some  consola- 
tion by  knowing  that  the  repeated  accounts  which 
have  of  late  been  transmitted  of  his  declining  health 
have  not  been  received  with  indifference.  You  will, 
therefore,  communicate  to  General  Buonaparte  the 
.      134 


LORD   BATHURST 

great  interest  which  His  Majesty  has  taken  in  the 
recent  accounts  of  his  indisposition,  and  the  anxiety 
which  His  Majesty  feels  to  afford  him  every  rehef 
of  which  his  situation  admits.  You  will  assure  Gen- 
eral Buonaparte  that  there  is  no  alleviation  which 
can  be  derived  from  additional  medical  assistance, 
nor  any  arrangement  consistent  with  the  safe  cus- 
tody of  his  person  at  St.  Helena  (and  His  Majesty 
cannot  now  hold  out  any  expectations  of  his  removal) 
which  His  Majesty  is  not  most  anxious  to  afford," 
and  so  forth.  The  force  of  Bathurst  could  no  further 
go.  Fortunately,  before  this  precious  effusion  was 
received  at  St.  Helena,  its  prisoner  was  where  the 
sympathy  of  George  IV.,  strained  through  Bathurst, 
could  not  reach  him.  Scott  thinks  that  it  would  have 
been  a  solace  to  him.  Comment  on  such  an  opinion 
seems  unnecessary. 

The  whole  correspondence,  so  far  as  we  know  it, 
is  sordid  and  pitiful  enough.  Making  all  allowances 
for  the  cost  and  exhaustion  of  the  war,  and  for  the 
natural  anxiety  that  the  great  disturber  of  peace 
should  not  escape,  it  appears  to  us,  at  the  end  of  the 
century  in  which  it  passed,  a  humiliating  compound 
of  meanness  and  panic.  But  the  responsibility  for 
this  ignominious  episode,  this  policy  of  petty  cheese- 
paring and  petty  police,  must  rest  not  with  the  in- 
struments, but  with  the  principals;  with  the  Liver- 
pools  and  Bathursts  at  home,  not  with  the  Cockbums 
and  Lowes  at  St.  Helena ;  although  the  ministers,  as 
we  have  seen,  tried  to  dissociate  themselves  from  the 
sinister  reputation  of  Lowe  by  extending  a  conspicu- 
ously cold  shoulder  to  him  on  his  return. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE    DRAMATIS    PERSONJE 

The  dramatis  personae  of  this  long  tragedy  are 
few  in  number,  and  some  even  of  these,  the  Popple- 
tons  and  the  like,  flit  like  ghosts  across  the  stage, 
without  voice  or  substance.  Of  Poppleton,  for  ex- 
ample, whose  name  occurs  so  frequently,  we  only 
know  that  he  was  long  the  orderly  officer  at  Long  wood ; 
that  he  was  not  much  of  a  horseman ;  that  he  some- 
times dug  potatoes;  and  that,  on  leaving,  he  sur- 
reptitiously accepted  a  snuff-box  as  a  present  from 
the  Emperor,  one  of  the  greatest  crimes  in  Lowe's 
long  calendar.  We  have,  indeed,  occasional  vivid 
glimpses,  such  as  Napoleon's  description  of  the  ad- 
miral who  succeeded  Malcolm:  He  "reminds  me  of 
one  of  those  drunken  little  Dutch  skippers  that  I  have 
seen  in  Holland,  sitting  at  a  table  with  a  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  a  cheese  and  a  bottle  of  Geneva  before  him.'' 
But  there  are  other  names  which  occur  in  every  page 
of  the  various  narratives,  notably  those  of  the  Em- 
peror's little  suite.  Of  the  characters  not  already 
noticed  the  grand  marshal.  Count  Bertrand,  and  his 
wife  take,  of  course,  the  first  place. 

Bertrand  has  one  agreeable  singularity — he  wrote 
no  book,  and  tells  us  nothing,  which  is  in  itself  a 
pleasant  contrast  to  the  copious  self-revelation  of 
Gourgaud  and  Las  Cases.    He  seems  to  have  been 

136 


THE   DRAMATIS  PERSONiE 

an  excellent  officer — Napoleon  repeatedly  said  that 
he  was  the  best  engineer  officer  in  existence,  but  this 
may  possibly  have  been  alleged  for  the  purpose  of 
teasing  Gourgaud.  He  was,  moreover,  devoted  to 
his  master,  but  not  less  devoted  to  his  wife.  This 
double  allegiance,  which  had  already  caused  incon- 
venience at  Elba,  plunged  him  into  constant  diffi- 
culties with  the  Emperor,  who  resented  it  even  on 
his  death-bed.  But  Bertrand  resisted  his  wife's  en- 
treaties that  he  would  not  accompany  the  Emperor 
to  St.  Helena,  stayed  till  the  end,  though  not  without 
thoughts  of  going,  and  remains,  in  his  loyal  silence, 
the  most  sympathetic  figure  of  the  Emperor's  sur- 
roundings. For  some  reason  or  another  he  was  an 
object  of  Lowe's  special  hatred.  But  Henry,  the 
friend  of  Lowe,  and  almost  every  other  impartial  au- 
thority, commend  him.  Napoleon  on  his  death-bed 
ordered  Bertrand  to  be  reconciled  to  Lowe,  and  a  rec- 
onciliation accordingly  took  place  after  the  Emperor's 
death. 

Mme.  Bertrand  was  said  to  be  an  English  Creole 
by  birth ;  on  the  English  side  a  niece  of  Lord  Dillon, 
and  on  the  Creole  side  a  connection  of  the  Empress 
Josephine.  Her  English  origin  had  indeed  caused 
her  to  be  suspected  at  Elba  of  English  sympathies, 
but  of  this  not  the  slightest  trace  is  discoverable. 
Her  appearance  seems  to  have  possessed  a  singular 
charm.  She  was,  says  an  English  lady  on  the  isl- 
and, "a  most  engaging,  fascinating  woman.  She 
spoke  our  language  with  perfect  fluency,  but  with  a 
slight  French  accent.  Her  figure  was  extremely  tall 
and  commanding,  but  a  slight,  elegant  bend  took 
from  her  height,  and  added  to  her  interesting  appear- 
ance; her  eyes  black,  sparkling,  soft,  and  animated; 

137 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

her  deportment  that  of  a  young  queen,  accustomed  to 
command  admiration,  yet  winning  to  preserve  it." 
Her  character  was,  however,  Hable  to  tumults  of  Cre- 
ole passion,  and  on  the  announcement  that  Napoleon 
was  to  be  sent  to  St.  Helena  she  flung  herself  into  his 
cabin,  made  a  scene,  and  then  attempted  to  drown 
herself.  The  result,  and  even  the  attempt,  had,  for- 
tunately, no  element  of  tragedy.  For  while  her  body 
was  half  out  of  the  cabin  window,  her  husband  re- 
strained her  from  within,  while  Savary,  with  whom 
she  had  a  feud,  was  shouting  in  fits  of  laughter : 
"Let  her  go!  let  her  go!''  Maitland  had  constant 
struggles  with  her  while  she  was  on  board  the  Bel- 
lerophon,  culminating  in  a  scene  when  "the  little 
self-possession  that  still  remained  gave  way,"  and 
he  called  her  "a  very  foolish  woman,"  desiring  her 
not  to  speak  to  him  again.  Nevertheless,  when,  a 
little  later  in  the  day,  she  left  the  ship,  she  came  up 
to  the  captain  "  in  a  conciliatory  and  friendly  manner 
that  did  her  the  highest  honor,"  reminded  him  that 
he  had  called  her  a  very  foolish  woman  that  morning, 
but  asked  him  to  shake  hands,  "as  God  knows," 
added  the  poor  lady,  "if  we  shall  ever  meet  again." 
Maitland  sums  her  up  as  a  kind  mother  and  affection- 
ate wife,  with  many  excellent  qualities,  "  though  per- 
haps a  little  warm. "  Forsyth  says  that  she  seems  to 
have  won  the  good-will  and  regard  of  all  who  knew 
her.  One  trait  of  humor  is  recorded  of  her.  A  child 
was  born  to  her  at  St.  Helena,  whom  she  presented 
to  the  Emperor  as  the  first  French  visitor  that  had 
entered  Longwood  without  Lord  Bathurst's  permis- 
sion. Mme.  de  Montholon  records  that  she  lived 
through  their  long  and  weary  captivity  in  com- 
plete harmony  with  this  seductive  creature.     After 

138 


THE   DRAMATIS   PERSON^E 

Mme.  de  Montholon's  departure  she  was  left  for 
two  years  without  the  society  of  a  countrywoman, 
and  she  had  to  beg  Lowe  for  the  rehef  of  a  httle  com- 
pany. No  one  made  greater  sacrifices  in  order  to 
accompany  Napoleon  and  her  husband  than  Mme. 
Bertrand.  She  was  fond  of  luxury  and  of  society; 
she  was  accustomed  to  play  a  leading  part  in  a  splen- 
did court;  she  had,  indeed,  at  Trieste,  held  a  vice- 
regal court  of  her  own;  her  exquisitely  beautiful 
children  were  approaching  an  age  when  their  edu- 
cation would  have  to  be  her  first  object ;  but  after  the 
first  paroxysm  she  went  uncomplainingly  to  her 
tropical  Siberia,  and  seems  to  have  been  a  peace- 
maker in  a  community  which,  though  small,  afford- 
ed an  unbounded  field  for  that  blessed  calling. 

Of  the  personality  of  M.  and  Mme.  de  Montholon 
we  catch  but  a  faint  view,  though  their  names  are 
written  large  in  the  chronicles  of  the  captivity.  Mon- 
tholon was  of  ancient  family,  and  claimed,  indeed, 
to  be  by  inheritance  an  English  or  Irish  peer.  One 
of  his  ancestors,  it  is  alleged,  had  saved  the  life  of 
Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,  and  had  been  created  in  con- 
sequence Earl  of  Lee  and  Baron  O'Brien,  titles 
which,  it  is  alleged,  were  inherited  by  Montholon, 
but  which  diligent  research  fails  to  identify.  How- 
ever that  may  be,  he  had  been  known  to  Napoleon 
ever  since  he  was  a  child  of  ten  years  old,  when,  be- 
ing in  Corsica  with  his  mother  and  step-father,  M. 
de  S^monville,  he  had  received  mathematical  lessons 
from  the  young  Napoleon,  then  a  captain  of  artillery. 
Afterwards  he  was  at  school  with  Lucien  and  Jerome, 
and  with  Eugene  de  Beauharnais.  Hence  he  was, 
as  may  be  supposed,  closely  identified  with  the 
career  of  Napoleon,  and  he  was  still  further  connected 

139 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

with  the  imperial  interest  through  the  marriage  of  his 
sister  with  the  pure  and  chivahous  Macdonald.  It 
was  the  strange  fate  of  Montholon  to  know  Napoleon 
in  the  obscurity  of  his  early  days,  to  be  associated 
with  the  magnificence  of  his  empire,  to  follow  him 
into  exile,  to  watch  by  his  death-bed  with  the  tender- 
ness of  a  son,  to  live  to  assist  in  the  fantastic  attempt 
on  Boulogne,  and  so  to  be  partaker  of  the  third  Na- 
poleon's captivity  for  exactly  the  term  of  the  captivity 
of  the  first.  Six  years  of  his  life  were  spent  in  sharing 
the  imprisonment  of  the  first,  and  six  years  in  shar- 
ing that  of  the  third  Napoleon,  He  lived  to  see  the 
re-establishment  of  the  empire,  which  Gourgaud 
missed  by  a  few  months ;  but  Gourgaud,  character- 
istically enough,  was  in  opposition  to  the  prince 
president. 

Montholon  was,  happily,  a  blind  devotee;  hap- 
pily, for  a  blind  devotee  was  required  in  the  little 
court.  After  the  departure  of  Las  Cases,  therefore, 
it  was  not  difficult  for  Montholon  to  succeed  to  the 
vacant  place,  for  the  conjugal  devotion  of  Ber- 
trand,  and  the  moroseness  of  Gourgaud,  disabled 
them  from  competition;  and  so  Montholon  became 
the  most  familiar  and  necessary  of  the  Emperor's 
staff.  But  even  he  wished  to  go.  Bathurst,  in 
February,  1820,  was  writing  caustically  enough  of 
Bertrand  and  Montholon :  "  They  are  both,  in  fact, 
upon  the  wing,  but  watching  each  other."  Mon- 
tholon, at  any  rate,  wished  to  accompany  his  wife 
when  she  left  in  18 19,  and  had  his  daily  struggles 
with  Napoleon,  who  besought  him  to  remain.  Nine 
weeks,  indeed,  before  the  Emperor's  death  we  find 
him  discussing  with  Lowe  who  should  succeed  Ber- 
trand and  himself  as  attendants  on  the  exile,  and 

140 


THE   DRAMATIS   PERSONiE 

Planat,  as  we  have  seen,  was  almost  starting  to  re- 
place him.  Scott  met  him  at  Paris  in  1826,  and 
found  him  an  "  interesting  person,  by  no  means  over- 
much prepossessed  in  favor  of  his  late  master,  whom 
he  judged  impartially,  though  with  affection." 

Of  Albinie  H^l^ne  de  Vassal,  Mme.  de  Montholon, 
but  for  the  insane  jealousy  of  Gourgaud,  we  should 
know  nothing,  or  next  to  nothing,  though  she  left 
behind  her  some  vivid  notes  of  her  exile.  We  learn 
incidentally  from  M^neval  that  her  marriage  with 
Montholon  encountered  some  difficulties,  for  she  had 
two  divorced  husbands  living.  The  Emperor  for- 
bade the  banns,  but  afterwards  gave  Montholon  per- 
mission to  marry  "the  niece  of  the  President  Si- 
guier." Montholon  had  tricked  his  sovereign,  for 
his  bride  was  the  forbidden  lady  under  another 
description.  "A  quiet,  unassuming  woman,"  says 
Maitland,  "who  gave  no  trouble,  and  seemed  per- 
fectly satisfied,  provided  she  were  allowed  to  accom- 
pany her  husband."  She  provided  the  music  of 
the  Emperor's  drawing-room,  singing  Italian  songs, 
with  little  voice,  and  strumming  on  the  piano. 

Emmanuel,  Marquis  of  Las  Cases,  had  had  a  some- 
what checkered  career.  At  an  early  age  he  entered 
the  French  navy  and  took  part  in  the  siege  of  Gib- 
raltar. Before  he  was  twenty-one  he  had  passed 
as  a  lieutenant,  and  soon  afterwards  was  placed  in 
command  of  a  brig.  Then  came  the  Revolution, 
and  the  young  officer  was  one  of  the  first  to  emigrate. 
This  was  ultimately  fortunate,  for  his  recollections 
of  Coblentz  and  of  the  Emigration  had  always  a 
particular  savor  for  Napoleon.  From  Coblentz  he 
was  despatched  on  a  secret  mission  to  Gustavus  III. 
of  Sweden.    Then  Las  Cases  drifted  to  England, 

141 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

formed  a  part  of  the  disastrous  expedition  to  Quibe- 
ron,  and  on  his  escape  thence  gave  lessons  in  Lon- 
don, where  he  pubHshed  a  historical  atlas,  which 
proved  remunerative.  After  the  Eighteenth  of  Bru- 
maire  he  returned  to  France,  served  under  Bema- 
dotte,  and  became  a  chamberlain  and  councillor  of 
state.  On  Napoleon's  first  abdication  he  refused 
to  adhere  to  the  resolution  of  the  council  of  state 
deposing  the  Emperor  (although  he  accepted  from 
Louis  XVIII.  a  commission  as  captain  in  the  French 
navy),  and  retired  to  England.  During  the  Hun- 
dred Days  he  returned,  of  course,  to  Paris,  and, 
after  Waterloo,  besought  Napoleon  to  take  him  to 
St.  Helena.  Born  three  years  before  his  master. 
Las  Cases  survived  him  twenty-one,  dying  in  1842. 
We  give  these  facts  in  detail,  because  they  explain 
the  preference  which  causes  such  jealousy.  Las  Cases 
belonged  to  the  old  nobility,  he  had  served  in  the  navy 
before  the  Revolution,  he  had  been  involved  in  the 
Emigration,  he  had  seen  much  of  England,  and  was 
thus  able  to  satisfy  Napoleon's  insatiable  curiosity 
on  phases  of  life  with  which  he  had  had  no  personal 
contact.  Moreover,  Las  Cases  was  a  man  of  the 
world.  He  had  fought,  gambled,  and  travelled,  had 
seen  life  in  the  hundred-sided  character  of  a  needy 
and  ingenious  exile,  and  had  observed  the  empire 
and  its  court  from  a  much  more  independent  situa- 
tion than  Napoleon's.  Besides,  he  adored  his  mas- 
ter, had  no  secrets  from  him,  regarded  him  as  super- 
human and  divine.  We  have  seen,  indeed,  that  he 
had  no  scruples  in  the  Emperor's  service.  "Napo- 
leon is  my  God,"  he  would  say;  or  "I  do  not  regret 
my  exile,  since  it  places  me  close  to  the  noblest  of 
created  beings."    He  had  even  the  complaisance  to 

142 


THE   DRAMATIS   PERSONS 

be  much  shorter  than  the  Emperor.  There  were,  of 
course,  drawbacks.  He  humiHated  his  master  by 
being  violently  sea-sick  on  a  British  man-of-war,  in 
spite  of  a  new  naval  uniform  and  of  the  great  bound 
in  rank  which  he  had  achieved  after  a  quarter  of  a 
century  spent  on  shore.  Then,  too,  his  colleagues 
hated  him.  Their  usual  name, for  him  was  "The 
Jesuit."  His  favor  with  Napoleon,  though  perfectly 
explicable  to  us  from  his  experience  and  his  contrast 
with  the  too  domestic  Bertrand,  the  less  cultured 
Montholon,  and  the  impracticable  Gourgaud,  was  a 
constant  irritation  to  them.  Then,  again,  his  de- 
parture is  not  easily  explained.  He  might  have  re- 
turned, but  would  not,  imbedding  himself  in  vapid 
phrases  which  even  now  we  cannot  exactly  interpret, 
but  which  we  translate  into  a  conviction  that  his  col- 
leagues had  rendered  his  life  at  Longwood  impossi- 
ble. In  spite  of  all,  in  spite  of  his  unblushing  fabri- 
cations, his  want  of  veracity,  the  irrepressible  sus- 
picion that  he  may,  after  all,  have  been  only  an 
enthusiastic  Boswell  seeking  biographical  material 
for  publication,  we  confess  to  a  sneaking  kindness 
for  the  devoted,  rhetorical  little  man ;  and  we  cannot 
forget  that  he  insisted  on  handing  over  to  Napoleon 
four  thousand  pounds,  which  was  probably  his  en- 
tire fortune.  With  him  was  his  son,  then  a  boy,  who 
afterwards  assaulted  Sir  Hudson  Lowe  in  the  streets 
of  London,  and  tried  to  bring  about  a  duel  with  the 
ex-governor.  Nineteen  years  after  Napoleon's  death 
the  young  man  returned  to  St.  Helena  with  the  expe- 
dition to  fetch  back  the  Emperor's  remains,  and 
became  a  senator  under  Napoleon  III. 

Piontkowski  remains  a  figure  of  mystery.     He  was 
a  trooper  in  the  Polish  Lancers,  who  had  followed 

143 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

Napoleon  to  Elba,  and  had  been  given  a  commission 
in  consequence  of  his  fidelity.  At  a  time  when  the 
British  government  would  not  allow  Gourgaud  to 
take  with  him  his  old  servant,  or  Las  Cases  to  be 
rejoined  by  his  wife,  they  sent  Piontkowski,  unbid- 
den and  unwelcome,  to  join  the  Emperor.  If  we  may 
trust  the  others,  Gourgaud  found  him  out  at  once  to 
be  untruthful,  and  to  have  made  false  statements 
about  his  campaigns.  Napoleon  knew  nothing  of 
him,  disliked  him,  and,  not  unnaturally,  distrusted 
him.  After  his  departure,  indeed.  Napoleon  openly 
suspected  him  of  being  a  spy;  Las  Cases  disdain- 
fully mentions  him  as  "the  Pole."  He  vanished  as 
suddenly  as  he  came,  nine  months  afterwards,  with 
apparently  plenty  of  money.  We  do  not  believe  him 
to  have  been  a  spy,  but  his  appearance  and  career 
at  Longwood  still  require  elucidation. 

"The  young  ladies  born  in  that  island  are  ex- 
tremely pretty,"  says  a  witness  who  lived  at  St. 
Helena  during  the  Emperor's  residence,  and  our  vari- 
ous chronicles  are  full  of  them.  There  were  the  two 
Balcombes,  Miss  Wilks,  Miss  Robinson,  who  was 
known  as  "the  Nymph,"  and  Miss  Kneips,  who  was 
known  as  "the  Rosebud." 

With  Miss  Wilks  Gourgaud  was  desperately  in 
love.  "There  is  a  woman!"  he  exclaims  during 
their  first  acquaintance.  He  lost  his  heart  at  once, 
and  asked  himself,  "Alas!  Why  am  I  a  prisoner?" 
It  was  no  comfort  to  him  to  be  assured  by  Bertrand 
that  he  was  preferred  to  the  other  suitors,  or  by  Na- 
poleon that  he  should  be  provided  with  a  better  mar- 
riage in  France,  He  sees  the  ship  that  bears  her 
away,  and  heaves  a  despairing  "Adieu,  Laure!" 

All  testimony  is  unanimous  that  Gourgaud  in  this 

144 


THE   DRAMATIS   PERSONiE 

instance  placed  his  affections  well.  "Miss  Wilks 
was  then  in  the  first  bloom  of  youth,  and  her  whole 
demeanor,  affability,  and  elegant,  modest  appear- 
ance conspired  to  render  her  the  most  charming  and 
admirable  young  person  I  ever  beheld,  or  have  since 
met  with,  in  all  my  peregrinations  in  Europe,  Asia, 
and  Africa  for  the  space  of  thirty  years."  This  is 
the  high  testimony  of  a  lady  who  accompanied  her 
on  her  first  visit  to  Napoleon.  The  Emperor  was 
scarcely  less  fascinated.  He  had  long  heard,  he 
said,  with  a  bow,  of  the  elegance  and  beauty  of  Miss 
Wilks,  but  was  now  convinced  that  report  had  scarce- 
ly done  her  justice. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  Colonel  Wilks,  the  East 
Indian  governor  of  the  island.  She  eventually  mar- 
ried General  Sir  John  Buchan,  and  lived  to  be  ninety- 
one.  She  only  died  in  1888,  and  used  to  tell  how 
Napoleon,  at  parting,  had  given  her  a  bracelet,  and, 
when  she  had  said  she  was  sorry  to  leave  the  island, 
had  replied:  "Ah!  Mademoiselle,  I  only  wish  I 
could  change  places  with  you." 

Napoleon  gave  fanciful  names  to  people  and  to 
places.  One  quiet  glen  he  had  named  the  Valley 
of  Silence,  but,  when  he  found  that  a  pretty  girl  lived 
in  it,  he  renamed  it  the  Valley  of  the  Nymph.  The 
Nymph  was  a  farmer's  daughter,  "a  very  pretty  girl 
of  about  seventeen,"  named  Marianne  Robinson, 
whose  sister  had  married  a  Captain  Jordan  of  the 
Sixty -sixth  Regiment,  quartered  at  St,  Helena. 
Warden  devoted  a  page  of  his  book  to  her,  and  states 
that  the  visits  of  Napoleon  became  so  frequent  to 
the  little  farm  that  the  gossips  of  Jamestown  warned 
the  father,  who  afterwards  forbade  his  daughter  to 
appear  when  the  Emperor  called.  This  silly  scan- 
I  145 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

dal  Napoleon  thought  it  worth  his  while  to  contra- 
dict in  the  Letters  from  the  Cape,  stating  that  he  only 
once  spoke  to  her,  in  broken  English,  without  alight- 
ing from  his  horse.  Montchenu,  however,  who  had 
an  eminently  prurient  mind,  repeats  the  statement, 
and  avers  that  Napoleon  made  her  a  declaration, 
that  he  talked  much  of  her  beauty,  and  thus  aroused 
the  jealousy  of  Miss  Balcombe.  Napoleon  did,  no 
doubt,  visit  the  Nymph  more  than  once,  and  Gour- 
gaud  declares  that  she  hinted  to  the  Emperor  that 
she  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  early  and  solitary 
walks.  But,  so  far  from  taking  up  the  challenge, 
he  rallies  Gourgaud  on  having  made  a  new  conquest 
— an  impeachment  to  which  that  gallant  officer 
was  always  prepared  to  plead  guilty.  Finally  the 
Nymph  marries,  and  so  puts  an  end  to  this  vulgar 
gossip.  Her  husband  is  a  merchant  captain,  a  "  M. 
Edouard"  (Edwards),  who  has  been  attracted  to 
her,  according  to  the  complacent  belief  of  Longwood, 
by  the  reported  admiration  of  the  Emperor.  "It  is 
enough  for  me  to  have  said  that  she  is  pretty,"  said 
the  Emperor,  "  for  this  captain  to  fall  in  love  with  her 
and  marry  her."  Napoleon  also  makes  the  mys- 
terious comment  that  the  marriage  proves  that  the 
English  have  more  decision  than  the  French,  a  re- 
mark which  appears  to  indicate  some  hesitating  as- 
pirations on  the  part  of  some  member  of  the  house- 
hold, probably  Captain  Piontkowski.  She  brings 
the  husband  to  Longwood,  when  Napoleon  says  that 
she  has  the  air  of  a  nun,  and  that  her  husband  re- 
sembles Eugdne  Beauharnais.  Napoleon,  as  is  his 
wont,  asks  him  some  crude  and  tactless  questions; 
the  mariner  blushes,  the  Emperor  pledges  him  in  a 
toast,  and,  after  an  hour  and  a  half  of  this  sort  of 

146 


THE   DRAMATIS   PERSON^E 

thing,  the  couple  take  their  leave.  After  a  while 
Napoleon  follows  them,  and  insists  on  embracing, 
not  the  Nymph,  but  her  husband,  on  the  ground, 
says  Mr.  Robinson,  that  he  is  so  like  Joseph  Bona- 
parte— probably  a  mistake  for  Eugdne.  And  so, 
with  this  unexpected  exit,  the  Nymph  vanishes  into 
space. 

Then  there  was  another  beauty,  whom  they  called 
the  "Rosebud."  The  editors  of  Gourgaud  tell  us 
that  she  was  a  Miss  Kneips.  She  makes  transient 
appearances,  but  we  know  nothing  of  her,  or  of  some 
still  more  shadowy  Miss  Churchills,  except  that  the 
large  heart  of  Gourgaud  found  a  nook  for  them  all. 

Miss  Betsy  Balcombe,  however,  is  the  girl  whose 
name  occurs  most  frequently  in  the  St.  Helena  rec- 
ords. Twenty-three  years  after  the  Emperor's  death, 
under  her  married  name  of  Mrs.  Abell,  she  published 
her  recollections  of  his  exile.  Her  father,  Mr.  Bal- 
combe, was  a  sort  of  general  purveyor,  sometimes 
called  by  courtesy  a  banker;  and  the  traditions  of 
the  island  declared  him  to  be  a  son  of  George  IV. 
Napoleon  lived  at  this  gentleman's  villa,  while  Long- 
wood  was  being  prepared  for  his  reception,  and  there 
made  acquaintance  with  his  two  daughters.  Betsy 
was  about  fifteen,  and  the  younger  of  the  two.  They 
both  talked  French,  but  Betsy  was  the  prettier,  and 
the  favorite,  for  she  represented  a  type  which  was 
new  to  the  Emperor,  a  high-spirited  hoyden,  who 
said  and  did  whatever  occurred  to  her  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment.  The  pranks  that  she  played  she 
records  in  her  book;  they  must  certainly  have  been 
in  the  nature  of  a  piquant  novelty  to  Napoleon. 
She  boxed  his  ears,  she  attacked  him  with  his  own 
sword.     But  the  suite  were  not  unnaturally  disgust- 

147 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST  PHASE 

ed  at  the  familiarity  with  which  she  treated  their 
master,  and  Napoleon  himself  wearied  of  her,  de- 
nounced the  whole  family  as  canaille  and  as 
mis&rables.  One  flirtation  kept  the  whole  island 
alive — would  Major  Ferzen  marry  Betsy  or  not? 
Napoleon  said,  No,  the  major  would  not  so  degrade 
himself.  Still,  at  rare  intervals,  she  amused  him 
to  the  last.  The  Emperor,  a  few  weeks  before  she 
left,  sent  the  sisters  two  plates  of  bonbons.  Lowe 
ordered  them  to  be  returned.  And,  with  this  last 
characteristic  memory  of  St.  Helena  and  its  ruler, 
the  Balcombe  family  sailed  from  the  island  on  the 
same  ship  with  Gourgaud. 

But  though  the  mosquitoes  were  harassing,  the 
dominant  population  of  St.  Helena  was  the  rats; 
more  formidable  than  regiments,  or  cannon,  or  Lowe. 
On  this  subject  there  is  an  almost  hysterical  una- 
nimity. "The  rats,"  says  O'Meara,  "are  in  num- 
bers almost  incredible  at  Longwood.  I  have  fre- 
quently seen  them  assemble  like  broods  of  chickens 
round  the  offal  thrown  out  of  the  kitchen.  The 
floors  and  wooden  partitions  that  separated  the  rooms 
were  perforated  with  holes  in  every  direction.  .  .  . 
It  is  difficult  for  any  person,  who  has  not  actually 
heard  it,  to  form  an  idea  of  the  noise  caused  by  these 
animals  running  up  and  down  between  the  par- 
titions and  galloping  in  flocks  in  the  garrets.''  Fre- 
quently O'Meara  has  to  defend  himself  against  them 
with  his  boots  and  his  bootjack.  They  run  round 
the  table  while  the  Emperor  is  at  dinner  without 
taking  heed  of  any  one.  As  Napoleon  takes  his 
hat  from  the  sideboard,  a  large  rat  springs  out  of 
it  and  runs  between  his  legs.  The  curse  of  the  isle, 
says  Sturmer,  is  the  rats;  the  curse  of  locusts  was 

148 


THE   DRAMATIS   PERSONS 

not  to  be  mentioned  beside  it.  The  inhabitants  are 
powerless  against  them.  A  slave  sleeping  in  a  pas- 
sage had  part  of  his  leg  eaten  off  by  them.  So 
had  one  of  the  Emperor's  horses.  Bertrand,  while 
asleep,  was  bitten  seriously  in  the  hand.  The  chil- 
dren had  to  be  protected  from  them  at  night.  Tri- 
fling, and  indeed  diverting,  as  this  pest  seemed  to  the 
distant  Bathurst,  it  must  have  been  an  odious  ad- 
dition to  the  petty  miseries  of  Longwood.  Nor  was 
Bathurst  alone  in  his  merriment.  Among  the 
squalid  caricatures  with  which  the  French  press 
attempted  to  besmirch  the  memory  of  their  fallen 
sovereign  there  are  several  devoted  to  this  topic. 
Napoleon  received  by  the  population  of  St.  Helena 
— the  rats;  Napoleon  granting  a  constitution  to 
the  rats ;  Napoleon  sleeping  at  peace  because  guard- 
ed by  a  cat-sentry;  and  so  forth.  One  need  not 
dilate  on  these  pleasantries. 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  COMMISSIONERS 

In  this  dreary  drama,  as  in  most  human  trans- 
actions, the  element  of  comedy  is  not  absent,  nor  even 
the  salt  of  farce.  The  comedy  is  supplied  by  Sir 
Hudson  Lowe,  his  beans,  and  his  counters.  The 
farce  is  the  career  of  the  commissioners. 

By  the  treaty  of  August  2,  1815,  it  was  provided, 
at  the  instance  of  Castlereagh,  which  he  afterwards 
regretted,  that  Austria,  Prussia,  and  Russia  were  "  to 
appoint  commissioners  to  proceed  to  and  abide  at  the 
place  which  the  government  of  His  Britannic  Majesty 
shall  have  assigned  for  the  residence  of  Napoleon 
Buonaparte,  and  who,  without  being  responsible  for 
his  custody,  will  assure  themselves  of  his  presence." 
And  by  the  next  article  His  Most  Christian  Majesty 
of  France  was  to  be  invited  by  the  signatory  courts 
to  send  a  similar  functionary.  Prussia,  combining  a 
judicious  foresight  with  a  wise  economy,  declined  to 
avail  herself  of  this  privilege.  But  the  other  courts 
hastened  to  nominate  their  representatives.  These 
had,  it  will  be  observed,  one  sole  and  single  duty, 
"  to  assure  themselves  of  his  presence."  It  is  suffi- 
cient to  observe  that  none  of  them  ever  once  saw  him 
face  to  face,  except  one  who  beheld  his  corpse. 

The  Russian  once  from  the  race-course  thought  he 
§aw  him  standing  on  the  steps  of  his  house.     On  the 

150 


THE   COMMISSIONERS 

same  occasion  the  Austrian,  concealed  in  a  trench, 
perceived  through  a  telescope  a  man  in  a  three-cor- 
nered hat,  whom  he  judged  to  be  the  Emperor.  The 
Frenchman  had  the  same  telescopic  glimpse,  but,  re- 
maining till  Napoleon's  death,  was  privileged  to  see 
his  remains.  That  is  the  whole  record  of  their  mis- 
sion, "to  assure  themselves  of  his  presence." 

They  had,  therefore,  a  large  balance  of  time  to 
spend  in  interviewing  and  abusing  the  governor,  to 
whom  they  were  a  torment,  as  implying  a  rival  au- 
thority, and  who  treated  them  accordingly.  He 
characteristically  assured  the  Austrian  that  he  had 
searched  through  Puffendorf,  Vattel,  and  Grotius  in 
vain  to  find  a  parallel  to  their  position,  or,  he  might 
have  added,  to  his  own.  But  this  in  no  degree  com- 
forted those  who  wanted  to  see  Napoleon,  if  only  for 
a  moment,  and  to  whom  that  satisfaction  was  denied. 
They  prowled  round  Longwood  in  vain,  the  Em- 
peror maliciously  observing  them  from  behind  his 
Venetian  blinds,  and  sometimes  sending  out  his  suite 
to  pick  up  news  from  them.  But  this  again  was 
by  no  means  what  the  commissioners  came  for. 

Once,  indeed.  Napoleon  asked  them,  as  private  in- 
dividuals, to  luncheon ;  for  he  did  not  doubt  that  their 
curiosity  would  prevail  over  their  etiquette  and  the 
constraint  of  the  governor.  The  meal,  indeed,  would 
not  have  been  a  pleasant  one,  as  he  spent  all  the 
morning  in  preparing  an  elaborate  appeal  to  them. 
But  they  never  came.  He  waited  till  five  o'clock, 
when  an  orderly  brought  a  cavalier  refusal  from  the 
Russian  and  the  Austrian  on  the  ground  of  les  con- 
venances. Montchenu  sent  no  reply,  though  this 
must  have  been  the  occasion  on  which  he  is  supposed 
to  have  sent  the  heroic  reply :  "  Tell  your  master  that 

151 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

I  am  here  to  guard  him,  and  not  to  dine  with  him." 
On  no  other  occasion  was  the  option  open  to  Mont- 
chenu  or  the  commissioners.  It  was  their  last  and 
only  chance. 

Montchenu,  the  French  commissioner,  took  him- 
self the  most  seriously,  and,  therefore,  in  this  absurd 
commission,  was  by  much  the  most  absurd.  His  ap- 
pointment is  said  to  have  been  the  revenge  of  Talley- 
rand for  all  that  he  had  endured  at  the  hands  of  Na- 
poleon. "It  is  my  only  revenge,  but  it  is  terrible," 
he  said.  "  What  torture  for  a  man  like  Napoleon  to 
be  obliged  to  live  with  an  ignorant  and  pedantic  chat- 
terbox. I  know  him;  he  cannot  endure  such  a  bore- 
dom; he  will  become  ill,  and  die  as  before  a  slow 
fire."  As  we  have  seen,  however,  this  subtle  ven- 
geance failed  in  its  object,  for  Montchenu  never  once 
succeeded  in  inflicting  himself  on  the  captive.  In 
early  life  he  had  known  the  Emperor,  when  Napo- 
leon was  a  subaltern  at  Valence  in  a  regiment  of 
which  Montchenu  was  lieutenant-colonel,  and  when 
both  were  rivals  for  the  affections  of  Mile,  de  Saint 
Germain,  who,  however,  preferred  M.  de  Montalivet, 
whom  she  married,  to  either.  He  seems  to  have  re- 
tained this  amorous  complexion  at  St.  Helena,  and 
his  conversation,  as  reported  by  Gourgaud,  appears 
to  consist  entirely  of  indecorous  observations  and 
immoral  advice.  He  endeavored  to  "embrace  Mrs. 
Martin, "  whoever  she  may  have  been.  He  sent  Lady 
Lowe  a  declaration  of  love  in  eight  pages,  which 
Lady  Lowe  offered  to  show  Gourgaud.  His  fatuity 
was  only  equalled  by  his  vanity.  He  boasted  at  large 
about  his  success  with  English  ladies.  Some  four 
thousand  he  has  known;  he  intimates  that  "they 
were  not  cruel. "    Montchenu  appeared  to  have  pleas- 

152 


THE   COMMISSIONERS 

ant  recollections  of  Valence ;  he  questioned  Gourgaud 
as  to  the  later  loves  of  Napoleon ;  he  showed  the  Em- 
peror little  attentions,  sent  him  newspapers,  and  the 
like.  Napoleon's  memories  of  Montchenu  do  not 
seem  to  have  been  so  favorable.  "  I  know  this  Mont- 
chenu," he  says.  "  He  is  an  old  fool,  a  chatterbox,  a 
carriage  general  who  has  never  smelt  powder.  I  will 
not  see  him."  The  worst  of  this  description,  says 
the  Russian  commissioner,  is  that  it  is  accurate. 
Again,  "Poor  fool,  poor  old  fool,  old  booby,"  Napo- 
leon calls  him.  And  again,  "  He  is  one  of  those  men 
who  support  the  ancient  prejudice  that  Frenchmen 
are  born  mountebanks."  Later  on  the  Emperor 
threatens  to  kick  the  old  marquis  out  of  doors  should 
he  appear  at  Longwood,  not  because  he  is  the 
French  commissioner, but  because  of  some  papers  that 
he  has  signed.  He  is  an  object  of  ridicule  to  all.  He 
had  been  the  laughing-stock  of  Paris.  One  eminent 
compatriot  described  him  as  bavard  insupportable, 
compldtement  nul.  Even  Lowe  cuts  jokes  at  him. 
From  his  willingness  to  accept,  and  his  reluctance  to 
extend  hospitality,  he  was  known  as  M.  de  Monter- 
chez-nous.  Henry,  who  attended  him  medically,  had 
however,  the  laugh  against  himself.  He  had  reck- 
oned up  a  long  tale  of  fees :  the  marquis  rewarded 
him  with  an  obliging  note.  This  nobleman  was  now 
past  sixty.  He  had  been  a  page  of  Louis  XV.  Hav- 
ing entered  the  army  before  the  Revolution,  and  fol- 
lowed the  princes  into  exile,  he  made  at  the  restora- 
tion the  same  astonishing  bound  in  military  promo- 
tion that  Las  Cases  had  accomplished  in  the  naval 
service.  In  December,  1815,  he  was  nominated  as 
French  commissioner  at  St.  Helena,  an  appointment 
which  had  the  negative  advantage  of  securing  him. 

153 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

from  his  creditors.  His  positive  duties  "  were  to  as- 
sure himself  habitually  by  his  own  eyes  of  the  exist- 
ence of  Bonaparte."  His  own  eyes,  as  we  have  seen, 
never  enabled  him  to  do  more  than  assure  himself 
of  the  end  of  that  existence.  Nevertheless,  he  set  off 
in  a  serious  and  indeed  heroic  spirit.  He  began  his 
despatches  from  Teneriffe  on  the  voyage  out.  "  I  have 
the  honor  to  warn  you,"  he  says  to  his  chief,  "  that  I 
am  quite  decided  never  to  separate  myself  from  my 
prisoner  so  long  as  he  lives. "  He  arrives  on  the  anni- 
versary of  Waterloo,  lands  precipitately,  and  de- 
mands at  once  to  be  conducted  to  Longwood,  that  he 
may  send  his  government  a  certificate  of  the  existence 
of  Napoleon  by  the  ship  leaving  next  day.  He  is 
with  difficulty  appeased,  but  tells  Lowe  that  it  is  essen- 
tial that  he  should  be  in  a  position  to  say  that  he  has 
seen  the  captive.  Two  days  afterwards  (June  20th) 
the  governor  asks  Count  Bertrand  if  the  Emperor 
will  receive  the  commissioners.  "  Have  they  brought 
any  letters  for  the  Emperor  from  their  sovereigns?" 
asks  Bertrand.  "No;  they  have  come  under  the 
convention  of  August  2,  1815,  to  assure  themselves 
of  his  presence."  Bertrand  will  take  the  Emperor's 
orders.  Have  they  got  the  convention?  There  is  a 
terrible  doubt.  No  one  had  thought  of  bringing  a 
copy :  no  copy  can  be  found ;  and  yet  it  is  from  this 
instrument  that  they  derive  their  authority  and  their 
official  existence.  The  commissioners  are  at  their 
wits'  end.  At  last,  by  a  freak  of  fortune,  after  a 
search  of  three  weeks,  Sturmer  finds  in  his  trunk 
some  loose  sheets  of  the  Journal  des  Debats,  which 
he  had  brought  in  due  course  of  packing,  and  which 
happened  to  contain  the  precious  treaty.  In  this  un- 
dignified form  it  was  forwarded  to  Napoleon,  who 

154 


THE   COMMISSIONERS 

answers  through  Montholon  on  August  23d  by  a  pro- 
test against  it.  Lowe  communicates  to  the  commis- 
sioners an  extract  from  this  letter,  which  amounted 
to  a  refusal  to  see  them  officially.  In  the  mean  time, 
says  Lowe,  "  they  are  sick  with  their  desire  of  seeing 
him."  Soon  they  become  mad  with  the  same  desire. 
Montchenu  wants  to  break  into  the  house  with  a  com- 
pany of  grenadiers.  He  is  reminded  that  Napoleon 
has  sworn  to  shoot  the  first  man  who  enters  his  room 
without  his  leave.  In  the  mean  time  he  attempts  the 
entry  alone,  and  is  repulsed  by  a  sergeant.  Event- 
ually he  has  to  subside  into  an  attitude  of  watchful- 
ness in  ambush  for  the  subordinate  members  of  the 
French  colony,  in  hopes  of  inveigling  them  to  meals, 
and  ultimately  to  gossip.  In  this  last  effort  he  to 
some  extent  succeeded,  and  he  became  on  such  terms 
with  Gourgaud  as  to  bid  him  a  tender  farewell, 
strictly  enjoining  him  to  make  known  to  whom  it 
might  concern  the  terrible  dreariness  of  life  at  St. 
Helena,  and  the  consequent  necessity  that  the  com- 
missioner's salary  should  be  not  less  than  four 
thousand  pounds  a  year. 

Montchenu  was  distinguished  from  the  other  com- 
missioners by  the  possession  of  a  secretary,  a  dis- 
tinction which  was  not  altogether  an  advantage. 
We  have  an  impression  that  the  secretary,  M.  de 
Gors,  was  intrusted  w4th  the  duty  of  supervising 
his  chief.  At  any  rate,  he  reported  upon  him  with 
startling  candor.  After,  we  presume,  copying  Mont- 
chenu's  despatches,  de  Gors  accompanies  them  with 
a  scathing  commentary.  "I  am  sorry  to  have  to 
say  it,  on  account  of  M.  de  Montchenu,  but  I  am 
bound  to  declare  that  his  criticisms  on  his  colleagues 
are  unfounded,  and  are  too  much  colored  by  his  own 

155 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

personality.  He  should  have  been  more  just  to 
M.  de  Balmain,  the  only  one  who  has  really  taken 
to  heart  the  common  interests  of  the  commission, 
to  which  by  excess  of  zeal  he  has  sacrificed  his  health 
and  repose.  M.  de  Montchenu  should  not  have  for- 
gotten that  it  is  to  Balmain  that  the  mission  owes 
any  degree  of  interest  that  it  possesses.  But  he 
has  never  been  able  to  make  up  his  mind  to  join  Bal- 
main in  a  simple  visit  to  the  inhabitants  of  Long- 
wood.  He  has  chattered  a  good  deal,  always 
blamed  what  he  did  not  do  himself,  and  has  himself 
never  done  anything  when  the  opportunity  offered. 
He  has  occupied  himself  with  disputes  of  precedence ; 
and  things  have  now  taken  such  a  turn  that  the  post 
of  Longwood  will  not  be  captured  without  a  thou- 
sand difficulties." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  add  anything  to  the  descrip- 
tion of  Montchenu  by  Montchenu's  secretary.  We 
may  pass  to  the  commissioner  who,  in  the  secre- 
tary's opinion,  shone  so  much  in  comparison  with 
his  own  chief. 

The  Count  of  Balmain,  the  Russian  commissioner, 
was  one  of  the  Ramsays  of  Balmain,  or,  rather,  of  a 
branch  settled  in  Russia  for  a  century  and  a  quarter. 
He  began  inauspiciously  by  proposing  to  bring  a 
young  Parisian  seamstress  with  him  in  an  unofficial 
capacity,  but  this  scandal  appears  to  have  been 
averted  by  the  horror  of  the  other  commissioners. 
Not  that  such  a  proceeding  would  have  conspicu- 
ously jarred  with  the  morals  of  St.  Helena,  for,  if 
we  may  credit  our  French  chroniclers,  the  naval 
chiefs  there  lived  with  mistresses;  and  the  loves 
of  Gourgaud  himself,  if  we  may  judge  from  his  in- 
nuendoes, were  neither  limited  nor  refined, 

156 


THE   COMMISSIONERS 

Balmain  seems  to  have  been  the  commissioner 
of  the  coolest  judgment  and  most  agreeable  man- 
ner; and  Longwood,  so  to  speak,  set  its  cap  at  him, 
but  without  much  success.  Balmain,  says  Sturm- 
er,  has  acquired  general  esteem.  He  is  extremely 
modest,  and  extremely  prudent,  avoiding  carefully 
anything  that  could  give  umbrage  to  the  governor. 
He  is,  besides,  accomplished,  and  writes  well.  Oblig- 
ing, amiable,  and  unpretentious,  he  is  beloved  by 
all  who  know  him.  He  is  thus  a  striking  contrast 
with  M.  de  Montchenu,  for  whom  he  has  a  scarcely 
veiled  contempt.  His  instructions  were  not  identi- 
cal with  those  of  his  colleagues,  for  he  was  thus  en- 
joined: "Dans  vos  relations  avec  Bonaparte,  vous 
garderez  les  managements  et  la  mesure  qu'exige 
une  situation  aussi  delicate,  et  les  6gards  personnels 
qu'on  lui  doit !" — a  sentence  which  is  neither  found 
nor  implied  in  the  instructions  of  the  others.  But 
what  was  infinitely  more  effective  than  the  sentence 
was  the  fact  that  the  italics  represent  a  line  drawn 
under  those  words  by  the  Emperor  Alexander  him- 
self. So  grave  an  emphasis  was  not  lost  on  Bal- 
main, who  declared  that  his  Emperor  desired  him 
to  use  a  courtesy  and  reserve  in  regard  to  Napoleon 
which  compelled  him  to  dissociate  himself  from  some 
of  Montchenu's  more  startling  proceedings.  But 
the  underscoring  by  the  Emperor  does  not  seem  to 
have  long  guided  the  policy  of  the  Russian  gov- 
ernment, for  it  presented  to  the  Congress  of  Aix-la- 
Chapelle  a  memorial  which  might  have  been  written 
by  Bathurst  himself  and  which  embodied  the  un- 
dying rancor  of  Pozzo  di  Borgo.  It  demanded  rig- 
orous treatment  of  Napoleon;  more  especially  that 
he  should  be  compelled  to  show  himself  twice  a  day, 

157 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

by  force  if  necessary,  to  the  commissioners  and  the 
governor.  But  all  the  thunders  and  all  the  menaces 
of  all  the  powers  of  Europe  failed  to  exact  this  sim- 
ple condition.  Napoleon  never  showed  himself, 
and  remained  master  of  the  field. 

Balmain  commenced  his  career  at  St.  Helena  by 
falling  in  love  with  Miss  Bruck  (or  Brook),  by  whom 
he  was  refused  :  he  ended  it  by  marrying  Miss  John- 
son, the  step-daughter  of  Sir  Hudson,  who  seems 
afterwards  to  have  amused  the  court  of  St.  Peters- 
burg by  her  eccentricities  and  her  accent.  This 
courtship,  which  was  carried  on  during  his  last  two 
years  at  St.  Helena,  complicated  his  relations  with 
the  governor,  for  it  hampered  him  in  the  expression 
of  his  opinions,  though  it  did  not  prevent  constant 
conflicts  with  that  official.  But  it  makes  his  testi- 
mony as  to  Lowe  all  the  more  valuable  and  impartial. 

With  all  his  circumspection,  however,  Balmain 
does  not  escape  the  mist  of  unveracity  that  befogged 
St.  Helena.  On  November  2,  1817,  Montholon  re- 
cords that  the  Emperor  sends  Gourgaud  to  pump  (if 
so  expressive  a  vulgarism  be  permitted)  the  commis- 
sioners, who  have,  he  knows,  received  despatches 
from  their  governments.  Gourgaud  returns,  ac- 
cording to  Montholon's  narrative,  bringing  an  imma- 
terial falsehood,  supposed  to  come  from  Sturmer,  and 
the  statement  from  Balmain  that  his  Emperor  has 
charged  him  with  certain  communications  for  Na- 
poleon. Gourgaud's  record,  it  should  be  noted,  in 
no  respect  confirms  this.  Montholon  continues  by 
narrating  that  for  two  days  afterwards  there  are  con- 
stant communications  with  the  Russian.  A  paper 
of  explanation  is  dictated  by  the  Emperor.  On  De- 
cember 17th  Montholon  states  that  Napoleon  is  de- 

158 


THE   COMMISSIONERS 

termined  to  send  Gourgaud  to  Europe,  for  he  is  pos- 
sessed by  recollections  of  Tilsit  and  Erfurt,  and  is, 
therefore,  anxious  to  make  overtures  to  the  Emperor 
Alexander,  "  though  there  is  nothing  in  the  commu- 
nications of  Balmain  to  warrant  these  hopes."  On 
January  ii,  1818,  he  has  this  entry:  "An  important 
communication  from  Count  Balmain  is  transmitted 
through  General  Gourgaud.  Dreams  of  a  return  to 
Europe,  and  of  princely  hospitality  in  Russia."  We 
turn  to  Gourgaud,  and  find  that  on  that  day  he  tried, 
as  the  Emperor  desired,  to  meet  Balmain,  but  failed 
to  do  so.  Neither  there  nor  elsewhere  does  he  hint 
at  any  communication  such  as  is  described  by  Mon- 
tholon.  In  vain,  too,  we  search  Balmain 's  de- 
spatches, which  are,  indeed,  in  a  very  different  vein. 
What  this  communication,  conveyed  from  some  one 
through  some  one,  neither  of  whom  knew  anything 
about  it,  purported  to  be,  we  also  learn  from  Montho- 
lon.  On  February  10,  1818,  he  has  a  vague  entry 
about  hopes  from  the  fraternal  friendship  of  Alex- 
ander, and  as  to  the  acceptability  of  Gourgaud  at 
the  Russian  court.  Under  these  influences  Napo- 
leon dictates  an  elaborate  reply  to  the  mysterious 
message,  which  had  never  been  sent  or  received.  In 
this  paper  he  thanks  the  Emperor  Alexander,  as  a 
brother,  for  the  assurance  received  from  him  through 
Balmain,  and  for  the  hospitality  offered  by  him  in 
Russia,  proceeds  to  answer  three  questions  which 
the  Emperor  Alexander  had  ordered  Balmain  to  put, 
as  to  the  occupation  of  the  duchy  of  Oldenburg  in 
1812,  as  to  the  war  with  Russia,  and  as  to  the  failure 
in  the  negotiations  for  a  Russian  marriage :  and  con- 
cludes by  offering  the  Emperor  Alexander  his  alli- 
ance should  that  sovereign  throw  over  the  Bourbons, 

159 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

and  by  declaring  himself  even  willing  to  conclude  a 
treaty  of  commerce  with  Britain  should  that  be  the 
necessary  condition  of  a  good  understanding.  This 
paper  was  doubtless  given  to  Gourgaud  for  his  guid- 
ance; and  it  was,  in  all  probability,  substantially  the 
same  document  as  that  which  Bertrand  attempted  to 
hand  to  Balmain  two  months  afterwards,  and  which 
Balmain  declined  to  receive. 

What  is  the  meaning  of  it  all?  It  is  clear  that 
there  was  no  communication  from  Balmain  to  Na- 
poleon. Putting  aside  the  improbability  of  it,  and 
the  absolute  silence  of  Balmain,  the  reputed  author, 
as  well  as  of  Gourgaud,  the  reputed  channel,  the  Em- 
peror Alexander  was  at  that  time  in  no  mood  for  in- 
viting Napoleon  to  Russia,  or  asking  him  retrospec- 
tive historical  questions.  On  the  contrary,  this  was 
the  year  of  the  Congress  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  where 
the  Russian  government  demanded  more  stringent 
custody  for  Napoleon.  We  may  dismiss  with  abso- 
lute confidence  the  story  of  the  communication.  But 
why,  then,  did  Napoleon  found  a  state  paper  on  a 
message  which  he  never  received,  and  answer  ques- 
tions that  were  never  asked?  The  explanation  would 
appear  to  be  this.  Montholon  tells  us,  two  months 
before  Gourgaud's  departure,  that  the  Emperor  is 
determined  to  send  Gourgaud  to  Europe  to  appeal  to 
the  Emperor  Alexander.  It  seems  to  us,  then,  that 
in  view  of  Gourgaud's  departure,  he  wished  to  give 
this  officer  a  paper,  a  kind  of  credential  which  could 
be  shown;  that  he  had  faint  hopes  of  winning  the 
sympathy  of  the  Russian  Emperor,  partly  from  the 
recollection  of  the  ascendancy  that  he  had  once  ex- 
ercised over  Alexander,  partly  because  he  was  no 
doubt  aware  that  Balmain's  instructions  had  a  shade 

i6o 


THE    COMMISSIONERS 

of  favor  in  them,  partly  because  he  must  have  been 
aware  that  Alexander  had  no  love  for  the  Bourbons, 
and  that  circumstances  might  make  it  necessary  to 
make  new  arrangements  for  filling  their  unstable 
throne;  that  he,  therefore,  desired  especially  to  clear 
himself  on  the  points  which  had  alienated  Alexander 
from  him;  that  the  supposititious  message  from 
Alexander  furnished  a  ground  on  which  to  base  his 
explanations;  that  many  who  saw  the  paper  would 
not  know  that  this  ground  was  fictitious;  and  that 
if  the  document,  or  its  purport,  ever  reached  Alex- 
ander, the  message  and  the  questions  could  be  ex- 
plained away  as  misunderstood  conversation.  It  is 
even  possible,  though  by  no  means  probable,  that 
Balmain  may  have  asked  such  questions  of  the  suite 
out  of  pure  curiosity.  At  any  rate,  if  the  paper  ever 
reached  Alexander  at  all,  matters  would  have  gone 
so  far  that  this  flaw  would  seem  insignificant. 
Strange  were  the  workings  of  that  astute  and  un- 
scrupulous mind :  we  do  not  profess  to  follow  them : 
we  can  only  ascertain  the  facts,  and  speculate.  For 
one  thing.  Napoleon,  in  those  days,  never  liked  to 
neglect  a  chance,  even  if  it  seemed  remote.  And  the 
interests  of  his  son,  which  were  ever  before  him, 
must  be  kept  in  mind.  It  might  some  day  be  use- 
ful for  the  dynasty  that  an  attempt  should  be  made 
to  clear  away  the  misunderstanding  with  Russia. 
Meanwhile  Balmain,  innocent  and  honorable  gentle- 
man as  he  appeared  to  have  been,  and  as  the  tone  of 
his  despatches  indicates,  was  going  on  his  blameless 
way,  unconscious  of  these  wiles,  and  resolute,  as 
would  appear,  only  on  one  course — that  of  keeping 
Longwood  and  its  intrigues  at  arm's  length. 
On  Balmain's  departure,  Montchenu  (aware  per- 
L  i6i 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

haps  of  his  secretary's  preference  for  the  Russian) 
summed  up  his  character  with  vindictive  severity. 
"You  have  no  idea/'  he  writes,  "of  M.  de  Balmain's 
extravagances,  of  his  ineptitude,  of  his  weakness 
and  eccentricity."  And  he  proceeds  to  compare 
himself  with  his  colleague.  Often  did  Sir  Hudson 
say  to  the  other  commissioners,  "Ah,  gentlemen, 
why  do  you  not  behave  like  the  marquis?" — at  least 
so  the  marquis  complacently  records. 

Bartholomew,  Baron  Sturmer,  was  the  Austrian 
commissioner.  He  was  only  twenty-eight  when  he 
reached  St.  Helena,  and  he  had  not  long  been  mar- 
ried to  a  pretty  and  agreeable  Frenchwoman,  who 
kept  Las  Cases,  to  his  extreme  indignation,  at  a 
distance,  although  he  claimed  that  she  had  received 
the  greatest  kindnesses  in  Paris  from  Mme.  de 
Las  Cases  and  himself.  His  position  was  the  most 
difficult  of  all,  for  his  government  constantly  en- 
joined him  to  work  harmoniously  with  Lowe,  which 
was  in  effect  impossible. 

Napoleon  tried  to  open  relations  with  the  repre- 
sentative of  his  father-in-law.  He  once  sent  to  ask 
if,  in  case  of  grave  illness,  he  might  intrust  Sturmer 
with  a  message  to  the  Austrian  Emperor  which 
should  reach  that  monarch,  and  no  one  else.  Sturm- 
er could  only  reply,  helplessly,  that  he  would  ask 
his  government  for  instructions,  which,  of  course, 
never  arrived. 

Sturmer  was  withdrawn  in  1818,  on  the  suggestion 
of  the  British  government,  made  at  the  instance  of 
Lowe.  To  Montchenu  was  awarded  the  cumulative 
sinecure  of  representing  Austria  as  well  as  France. 
The  marquis  saw  his  opportunity.  He  at  once  de- 
manded of  his  government  a  commission  as  lieu- 

162 


THE   COMMISSIONERS 

tenant-general,  a  high  decoration,  and  five  hundred 
pounds  a  year  increase  of  salary  from  them,  as  well 
as  a  salary  of  twelve  hundred  pounds  a  year  from 
the  Austrian  government.  How  these  modest  re- 
quests were  received  history  may  guess,  but  does 
not  record. 

Whether  from  the  diversity  of  their  instructions, 
or  the  malignity  of  the  climate,  or  the  humors  of 
their  courts,  the  commissioners  could  scarcely  be 
called  a  harmonious  body.  On  only  three  points 
did  they  show  any  agreement.  One  was  contempt 
for  Sir  Hudson  Lowe,  on  which  they  were  bitterly 
unanimous.  Another  was  the  dearness  of  St.  Helena, 
and  the  consequent  inadequacy  of  their  salaries, 
on  which  they  concurred  to  the  pitch  of  enthusiasm. 
The  third  was  the  effect  of  their  stay  on  their  nerves. 
"  Far  from  acclimatizing  myself  to  this  horrible  rock," 
writes  Balmain,  "  I  suffer  constantly  from  my  nerves ; 
my  health  is  already  ruined  by  the  climate."  Three 
months  later  fresh  nerve  attacks  drive  him  to  Brazil. 
But  this  is  as  nothing  to  the  nerves  of  Sturmer. 
Sturmer  for  six  or  eight  months  before  he  left  was 
seized  with  a  sort  of  hysteria.  He  wept  without 
knowing  why,  and  laughed  without  knowing  why. 
At  last  his  nervous  attacks  became  so  violent  that 
he  had  to  be  held  by  four  men  when  the  fit  seized 
him,  and  could  only  be  calmed  by  opium.  The  cli- 
mate, or  Lowe,  or  both,  were  too  much  for  the  sys- 
tems of  these  unlucky  diplomatists. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    EMPEROR   AT    HOME 

No  picture  of  St.  Helena  at  this  time  can  be 
complete  without  at  least  a  sketch  of  the  central 
figure — all  the  more  as  it  is  the  last  of  the  many 
portraits  of  Napoleon  that  we  can  obtain.  Of  his 
physical  appearance  from  the  time  of  his  passing 
into  British  hands  there  are  various  accounts,  too 
long  and  minute  to  be  inserted  here.  These,  there- 
fore, or  the  most  graphic  of  them,  we  relegate  to  an 
appendix. 

As  to  his  habitation,  Longwood  itself  was  a  collec- 
tion of  huts  which  had  been  constructed  as  a  cattle- 
shed.  It  was  swept  by  an  eternal  wind ;  it  was  shade- 
less,  and  it  was  damp.  Lowe  himself  can  say  no 
good  of  it,  and  may  have  felt  the  strange  play  of  for- 
tune by  which  he  was  allotted  the  one  delightful  resi- 
dence on  the  island  with  twelve  thousand  a  year, 
while  Napoleon  was  living  in  an  old  cow-house  on 
eight. 

The  lord  of  so  many  palaces,  who  had  slept  as  a 
conqueror  in  so  many  palaces  not  his  own,  was  now 
confined  to  two  small  rooms  of  equal  size — about  four- 
teen feet  by  twelve,  and  ten  or  eleven  high.  To  this 
little  measure  had  shrunk  all  his  conquests,  glories, 
triumphs,  spoils.  Each  of  these  rooms  was  lit  by 
two  small  windows  looking  towards  the  regimental 

164 


THE   EMPEROR   AT   HOME 

camp.  In  one  corner  was  the  little  camp-bed,  with 
green  silk  curtains,  which  the  Emperor  had  used  at 
Marengo  and  Austerlitz.  To  hide  the  back  door 
there  was  a  screen,  and  between  this  screen  and  the 
fireplace  an  old  sofa,  on  which  Napoleon  passed  most 
of  his  day,  though  it  was  so  covered  with  books  that 
there  was  scarcely  space  for  comfort.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  brown  nankeen,  and  amid  the  gen- 
eral squalor  a  magnificent  wash-hand-stand  with  sil- 
ver ewers  and  basins  displayed  an  incongenial  splen- 
dor. But  the  ornaments  of  the  room  were  other  than 
this ;  they  were  the  salvage  of  the  wreck  of  his  family 
and  his  empire.  There  was,  of  course,  a  portrait  (by 
Isabey)  of  Marie  Louise,  then  living  in  careless  beati- 
tude with  Neipperg  at  Parma.  There  were  the  por- 
traits of  the  King  of  Rome,  riding  a  lamb,  and  put- 
ting on  a  slipper,  both  by  Thibault ;  there  was  also  a 
bust  of  the  child.  There  was  a  miniature  of  Jose- 
phine. There  hung  also  the  alarm-clock  of  Frederick 
the  Great  taken  from  Potsdam,  and  the  watch  of  the 
First  Consul  when  in  Italy,  suspended  by  a  ch£dn  of 
the  plaited  hair  of  Marie  Louise. 

In  the  second  room  there  were  a  writing  table,  some 
book-shelves,  and  another  bed,  on  which  the  Emperor 
would  rest  in  the  day-time,  or  to  which  he  would 
change  from  the  other,  when  he  was,  as  was  gener- 
ally the  case,  restless  and  sleepless  at  night. 

O'Meara  gives  a  graphic  picture  of  Napoleon  in  his 
bedroom.  He  sat  on  the  sofa,  which  was  covered 
with  a  long  white  cloth.  On  this  "reclined  Napo- 
leon, clothed  in  his  white  morning  gown,  white  loose 
trousers  and  stockings,  all  in  one,  a  checkered  red 
madras  (handkerchief)  upon  his  head,  and  his  shirt 
collar  open,  without  cravat.   His  air  was  melancholy 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

and  troubled.  Before  him  stood  a  little  round  table 
with  some  books,  at  the  foot  of  which  lay  in  confusion 
upon  the  carpet  a  heap  of  those  he  had  already 
perused." 

His  usual  costume  was,  however,  more  formal  than 
this.  He  wore  a  hunting  uniform,  a  green  coat  with 
sporting  buttons,  and,  when  the  cloth  grew  shabby, 
had  it  turned  rather  than  wear  English  cloth.  With 
these  he  wore  white  kerseymere  breeches  and  stock- 
ings. He  gave  up  wearing  his  uniform  of  the  Chas- 
seurs of  the  Guard  six  weeks  after  he  arrived  in  the 
island.  He  retained,  however,  the  famous  little 
cocked  hat,  but  the  tricolored  cockade  he  laid  aside 
with  some  ceremony  two  years  after  Waterloo,  telling 
his  valet  to  keep  it  as  a  relic,  or  in  view  of  better  days. 
These  details  are  not  wholly  vapid,  because  he  had 
method  and  meaning  even  in  such  trifles.  Moreover, 
if  we  would  picture  to  ourselves  Napoleon  in  his  final 
phase,  we  must  know  them. 

What  was  his  manner  of  life? 

He  breakfasted  alone  at  eleven,  dressed  for  the  day 
about  two,  and  dined,  at  first,  at  seven,  though  he 
afterwards  changed  the  hour  to  four.  Just  before 
Gourgaud  left  there  was  a  new  arrangement;  the 
mid-day  breakfast  was  abolished ;  there  was  dinner 
at  three,  and  supper  at  ten ;  then,  a  few  days  after- 
wards, dinner  is  to  be  at  two — changes  suspected  by 
Gourgaud  as  intended  to  suit  the  health  and  con- 
venience of  Mme.  de  Montholon,  but  which  were 
probably  devised  to  beguile  the  long  weariness  of  the 
day,  or  to  cheat  the  long  wakefulness  of  the  night. 
For  he  practically  passed  all  his  days  in  his  hut, 
reading,  writing,  talking,  but  withal  bored  to  death. 

The  world  saw  nothing  of  this  shabby  interior: 

i66 


THE   EMPEROR   AT   HOME 

what  it  did  see  was  totally  different,  for  Napoleon 
kept  up,  as  part  of  his  contention  about  title,  the  ut- 
most state  consistent  with  his  position.  He  drove 
out  with  six  horses  to  his  carriage,  and  an  equerry 
in  full  uniform  riding  at  each  door.  But  the  six 
horses,  sometimes  a  source  of  danger  from  the  sharp- 
ness of  the  turns  and  the  pace  at  which  he  chose  to 
be  driven,  were  not  a  mere  luxury.  The  roads  at  St. 
Helena  were  such  that  the  ladies  of  his  party,  when 
they  went  out  to  dinner,  or  to  a  ball,  had  to  be  con- 
veyed in  a  Merovingian  equipage  drawn  by  several 
yoke  of  oxen. 

The  etiquette  was  not  less  severe  indoors.  Gour- 
gaud  and  Bertrand  and  Montholon  were  kept  stand- 
ing for  hours,  till  they  nearly  dropped  from  fatigue. 
On  one  occasion  Napoleon  is  annoyed  by  an  irre- 
pressible yawn  from  Bertrand.  The  grand  marshal 
excuses  himself  by  stating  that  he  has  been  standing 
more  than  three  hours.  Gourgaud,  pale  and  almost 
ill  with  fatigue,  would  lean  against  the  door.  Antom- 
marchi,  who,  by-the-bye,  had  to  put  on  a  court  dress 
when  he  visited  his  patient,  had  to  stand  in  his  pres- 
ence till  he  nearly  fainted.  On  the  other  hand,  if  one 
of  them  was  seated  by  the  Emperor  and  rose  when 
Mme.  Bertrand  or  Mme.  de  Montholon  entered  the 
room,  he  was  rebuked.  The  Emperor  had  always 
been  keenly  alive  to  this  ritual.  He  discourses  on  it 
diffusely  to  Las  Cases.  He  noticed  at  once  in  the  Hun- 
dred Days  the  advance  of  democracy  when  one  of  his 
ministers  rose  to  leave  him  without  permission.  Even 
in  the  agony  of  Rochefort  he  observed  a  small  breach 
of  etiquette  of  the  same  kind.  Indeed,  when  Gour- 
gaud mentions  to  him  that  in  China  the  sovereign  is 
worshipped  as  a  god,  he  gravely  replies  that  that  is 

J67 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

as  it  should  be.     At  St.  Helena  the  small  court  that 
remained  was  chivalrously  sedulous  to  observe  the 
strictest  forms  to  their  dethroned  Emperor.     None 
of  them  came  to  his  room  without  being  summoned. 
If  they  had  something  of  importance  to  communicate, 
they  asked  for  an  audience.     None  uninvited  joined 
him  in  a  walk,  and  all  in  his  presence  remained  bare- 
headed, until  he  became  aware  that  the  English  were 
ordered  to  remain  covered  in  speaking  to  him,  when 
he  desired  his  followers  to  do  the  same.     None  spoke 
to  him  first,  unless  when  conversation  was  in  flow. 
But  Bertrand  once  or  twice  contradicted  his  master  so 
abruptly  that  the  Emperor  at  once  remarked  it,  and 
observed  that  he  would  not  have  dared  to  behave  so 
at   the   Tuileries.     Bertrand,  too,  incurred   the   im- 
perial displeasure  by  not  dining  as  grand  marshal 
regularly  at  the  imperial  table,  for  sometimes  his  wife 
wished  him  to  dine  with  her.     Anything  of  this  kind 
that  savored  of  shortcoming  and  neglect  seriously 
annoyed  Napoleon.     Little  things  that  might  have 
escaped  his  notice  in  the  bustle  of  Paris  weighed  on 
him  at  St.  Helena;  they  brought  home  to  him,  too, 
the  change  in  his  position.     Then  there  was  the 
question  of  the  title.     But  Bertrand,  though  he  might 
sometimes  flag  in  observance,  always  sent  out  the 
letters  on  behalf  of  his  master  sealed  with  the  seal 
and  styled  with  the  pomp  of  the  grand  marshal  of 
the  palace  and  of  the  Emperor,  though  there  was  little 
at  St.  Helena  to  recall  either  the  one  or  the  other. 
At  dinner  Napoleon  was  served  with  great  state,  on 
gold  and  silver  plate,  and  waited  on  by  his  French 
servants  in  a  rich  livery  of  green  and  gold.     Twelve 
English  sailors,  chosen  from  the  squadron,  were  at 
first  allotted  to  him,  and  dressed  in  the  same  costume, 

i68 


THE   EMPEROR   AT   HOME 

but  they  disappeared  with  the  Northumberland,  to 
which  ship  they  belonged;  and  Napoleon  declined 
Lowe's  offer  to  replace  them  with  soldiers.  A  vacant 
place  was  reserved  next  him  for  the  Empress,  but  this 
was  sometimes  given  to  some  favored  lady.  There 
was  a  vast  variety  of  dishes,  of  which  the  Emperor 
ate  heartily;  on  an  honored  guest  he  would  press 
particular  dainties.  As  always,  his  dinner  occupied 
but  a  short  time.  At  the  Tuileries  it  was  an  affair 
of  twenty  minutes;  at  St.  Helena  five  minutes  more 
was  allowed  to  enable  Bertrand  to  have  his  fill  of 
bonbons.  And  in  the  earlier  days  at  Longwood  he 
would  send  at  dessert  for  some  volume  of  French 
tragedy,  which  he  would  read  aloud. 

To  many  this  petty  pomp  may  seem  absurd,  but 
with  the  suite  we  cannot  help  feeling  a  melancholy 
sympathy,  as  we  see  these  gallant  gentlemen  deter- 
mined to  prove  that,  whatever  Napoleon  might  be  to 
others,  to  them  he  was  always  their  sovereign. 

And  we  must  here  notice  the  strange  composition 
of  the  party.  Montholon,  as  we  are  informed  by 
his  biographer,  was  hereditary  grand  huntsman  of 
France  under  the  old  dynasty — a  post  to  which  Louis 
XVIII.  offered  to  restore  him  on  the  first  Restoration. 
Las  Cases  was  a  Royalist  emigrant.  Gourgaud  was 
the  foster-brother  of  the  Due  de  Berry,  and  was  one 
of  Louis  XVIII. 's  guard  during  the  first  Restora- 
tion. Of  the  four,  Bertrand  was  the  only  one  who 
could  be  described  as  free  from  all  connection  with 
royalism. 

The  one  pleasure  of  the  captive's  life  was  an  arrival 
of  books.  Then  he  would  shut  himself  up  with  them 
for  days  together — bathing  in  them,  revelling  in  them, 
feasting  on  them.     But,  indeed,  he  was  always  in- 

169 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST  PHASE 

clined  to  remain  in  the  house.     He  hated  the  signs 
of  prison,  the  sentries,  the  orderly  officer,  the  chance 
of  meeting  Lowe.     By  remaining  at  home,  he  tells 
Gourgaud,  he  preserves  his  dignity;  there  he  is  al- 
ways Emperor,  and  that  is  the  only  way  in  which  he 
can  live.     So  he  tries  to  obtain  exercise   indoors. 
Lowe  reports  on  one  occasion  that  the  Emperor  had 
constructed  a  sort  of  hobby-horse  made  of  cross- 
beams.    He  sat  at  one  end  of  the  beam,  with  a  heavy 
weight  at  the  other,  and  played  a  sort  of  see-saw. 
But  these  specifics  would  fail,  and  in  his  deprivation 
of  exercise  he  would  become  ill,  he  would  be  touched 
with  scurvy,  his  legs  would  swell,  and  he  would  de- 
rive a  morbid  satisfaction  from  the  reflection  that 
he  was  suffering  from  the  governor's  restrictions. 
Then,  in  the  last  year  of  his  life,  he  determined  to  live 
again.     He  rode  a  little,  but  his  main  interest  was 
in  his  garden.     Surrounded  by  a  gang  of  Chinese 
laborers,  he  would  plan  and  swelter  and  dig;  for  to 
dig   he  was   not  ashamed.     A  great   painter,  says 
Montholon,  would  have  found  a  worthy  subject  in 
the  mighty  conqueror  wearing  red  slippers  and  a  vast 
straw  hat,  with  his  spade  in  his  hand,  working  away 
at  dawn,  directing  the  exertions  of  his  impressed 
household,  and,  what  Montholon  confesses  were  more 
efficacious,  the   labors    of   the   Chinese   gardeners. 
Paul  Delaroche  painted  a  portrait  of  him  in  this  cos- 
tume, resting  from  his  labors  with  a  somewhat  flabby 
expression  of  countenance.     So  strenuously  did  he 
move  earth  to  make  a  shelter  that  Lowe  became 
alarmed.     He  feared  that  his  sentinels  might  find 
their  supervision  limited ;  he  gave  a  solemn  warning 
that  the  work  should  not  proceed.     He  took  credit  to 
himself  that  he  did  not  demolish  it.    Little  or  no  heed 

170 


THE   EMPEROR   AT   HOME 

seems  to  have  been  taken  of  this  futile  fussiness,  for 
Lowe  was  now  practically  ignored.  Napoleon  threw 
himself  into  the  operations  with  his  usual  ardor  ; 
spent  much  time  and  money  on  them ;  bought  large 
trees  and  moved  them,  with  the  aid  of  the  artillery 
regiment  and  some  hundreds  of  Chinese.  All  this 
distracted  him  for  a  time,  and  gave  him  exercise. 

His  unlucky  suite  had  to  delve,  whether  they  liked 
or  not.  But  this  was,  perhaps,  a  not  unwelcome 
change  of  labor.  For  indoors  their  work  was  hard. 
Napoleon  hated  writing,  and  had  almost  lost  the  art, 
for  what  he  did  write  was  illegible.  It  is  recorded 
that  on  his  marriage  he,  with  incredible  difficulty, 
managed  to  write  a  short  note  to  his  father-in-law. 
With  infinite  pains  his  secretaries  contrived  to  make 
it  presentable.  He  could  only  dictate;  and  he  dic- 
tated with  a  vengeance.  On  one  occasion  at  Long- 
wood  he  is  stated  to  have  dictated  for  fourteen  hours 
at  a  stretch,  with  only  short  intervals  from  time  to 
time  to  read  over  what  had  been  written.  Short- 
hand was  unknown  to  his  household,  so  the  opera- 
tion was  severe ;  though  Las  Cases  did  invent  for 
himself  some  sort  of  hieroglyphic  system.  More- 
over, he  sometimes  dictated  all  night.  Gourgaud 
would  be  sent  for  at  four  in  the  morning  to  take  the 
place  of  the  exhausted  Montholon.  He  would  cheer 
his  secretaries  by  telling  them  that  they  should  have 
the  copyright  of  what  they  wrote,  which  would  bring 
them  in  vast  sums.  But  this  illusion  did  not  quench 
their  groans,  and,  indeed,  in  bitterer  moments  he 
told  them  that  if  they  were  under  the  impression 
that  their  work  belonged  to  them,  they  made  a  great 
mistake.  What  was  the  result  of  all  this  dictation 
we  do  not  know — some  of  it  probably  is  yet  unpub- 

171 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

lished.  But  there  is  a  great  bulk  in  print,  and  some 
material  may  have  been  utilized  in  other  ways,  as 
in  the  Letters  from  the  Cape.  Gourgaud,  indeed, 
suspected  the  Emperor  of  several  compositions — of 
the  Manuscrit  de  Ste.  Helene,  for  example,  which 
he  certainly  did  not  write,  and  of  an  article  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review,  which  was  composed  by  Allen 
at  Holland  House,  from  information  supplied  by 
Cardinal  Fesch  and  Louis  Bonaparte.  It  is  proba- 
ble that  there  was  a  good  deal  of  dictated  inspi- 
ration constantly  proceeding  from  St.  Helena  to 
Europe;  and  Gourgaud  blames  the  Emperor  for 
producing  so  many  pamphlets.  Some  of  these 
manuscripts  were  buried  in  a  corner  of  the  garden, 
and  did  not,  apparently,  see  the  light. 

Besides  gardening,  riding,  reading,  and  dictation, 
he  had  few  distractions.  At  one  time  he  took  to 
buying  lambs  and  making  pets  of  them,  but  this  in- 
nocent whim  soon  passed.  Polo  was  played  on  the 
island,  but  not  by  him.  Sport,  strictly  so  called, 
was  difficult  and  indifferent.  Gourgaud,  who  was 
indefatigable,  would  sometimes  shoot  turtle-doves, 
sometimes  a  pheasant  or  a  partridge,  and  sometimes 
a  sow.  Sir  Hudson  Lowe  turned  out  some  rabbits 
for  Napoleon  to  shoot,  but,  with  his  unlucky  inop- 
portuneness,  chose  the  moment  when  the  Emperor 
had  been  planting  some  young  trees.  However, 
the  rats  killed  the  rabbits,  and  so  saved  the  trees; 
at  any  rate,  the  rabbits  disappeared.  Napoleon 
only  began  to  shoot  in  his  last  days,  and  then  per- 
formed feats  which  would  make  a  sportsman  weep. 
It  had  always  been  so.  At  Malmaison  in  old  days 
he  had  kept  a  gun  in  his  room  and  fired  at  Jose- 
phine's tame  birds.     And  now  he  began,  during  his 

172 


THE   EMPEROR   AT   HOME 

gardening  enthusiasm,  in  defence  of  his  enclosure, 
by  shooting  Mme.  Bertrand's  pet  kids,  to  her 
infinite  distress,  and  any  other  vagrant  animals 
that  strayed  within  his  boundary.  Finding  a  bul- 
lock there,  he  slew  that  beast  also.  Then  he  sent 
for  some  goats  and  shot  them.  This  shooting,  it 
need  scarcely  be  said,  caused  uneasiness  to  the  gov- 
ernor, and  to  Montchenu,  his  colleague,  as  well  as 
a  remote  pang  to  Forsyth,  his  biographer.  What 
would  happen,  asked  Lowe,  if  Napoleon  killed  some 
one  by  mistake?  Could  Napoleon  be  tried  and  pun- 
ished for  manslaughter?  Such  was  the  perturba- 
tion that  these  questions  were  actually  submitted 
to  the  law  officers  of  the  crown. 

At  first  he  rode,  but  the  close  attendance  of  an 
English  officer  was  intolerable,  and  for  four  years 
he  did  not  get  on  a  horse.  During  this  long  repose 
he  said  comically  of  his  horse  that  if  ever  there  were 
a  canon,  it  was  he,  for  he  lived  well  and  never  worked. 
He  had  never  been  nervous  on  horseback,  he  said, 
for  he  had  never  learned  to  ride.  It  may  interest 
some  to  know  that  he  considered  the  finest  and  best 
horse  that  ever  he  owned  to  be,  not  the  famous 
Marengo,  but  one  named  Mourad  Bey. 

He  played  at  some  games — billiards,  in  a  careless 
fashion ;  reversi,  which  he  had  been  used  to  play  as 
a  child;  and  chess.  At  chess  he  was  eminently 
unskilful,  and  it  taxed  all  the  courtliness  of  his  suite 
to  avoid  defeating  him,  a  simple  trickery  which  he 
sometimes  perceived.  On  the  Northumberland  he  had 
played  vingt-et-un,  but  prohibited  it  when  he  found 
that  it  produced  gambling.  At  all  games  he  liked 
to  cheat,  flagrantly  and  undisguisedly,  as  a  joke ;  but 
refused,  of  course,  to  take  the  money  thus  won,  say- 

173 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

ing,  with  a  laugh,  "What  simpletons  you  are!  It 
is  thus  that  young  fellows  of  good  family  are 
ruined/' 

It  was  apparently  a  solace  to  him  to  read  aloud, 
though  he  did  not  read  remarkably  well,  and  had 
no  ear  for  the  cadences  of  poetrj^  But  one  of  the 
difficulties  of  those  who  like  reading  aloud  is  to  find 
an  appreciative  audience,  and  so  it  was  in  the  present 
case.  Montholon  tells  us  of  one,  at  least,  who  slum- 
bered (we  suspect  Gourgaud  at  once),  a  circumstance 
which  the  Emperor  did  not  forget.  On  another  oc- 
casion Gourgaud  remarks  of  a  French  play :  "  The 
Awakened  Sleeper  sends  us  to  sleep."  When  the 
Emperor  reads  aloud  his  own  memoirs  the  same 
genial  companion  criticises  them  with  such  severity 
that  Napoleon  declines  to  read  them  aloud  any  more. 
At  one  reading,  however,  (of  Paul  and  Virginia), 
Gourgaud  weeps  outright,  while  Mme.  de  Montho- 
lon complains  that  recitals  so  harrowing  disturb 
digestion. 

He  was  supposed  to  declaim  like  Talma,  and  pro- 
longed declamation  of  French  tragedy  in  a  warm 
climate  may  sometimes  invite  repose.  Tragedy 
was  his  favorite  reading,  and  Corneille  his  favorite 
author  in  that  department  of  literature.  There  is 
on  record  a  discourse  on  Corneille's  tragedies,  pro- 
nounced by  the  Emperor  in  the  hazardous  salons 
of  the  Kremlin.  "Above  all,  I  love  tragedy,"  he 
said,  "sublime  and  lofty,  as  Corneille  wrote  it.  His 
great  men  are  more  true  to  life  than  those  in  his- 
tory, for  one  only  sees  them  in  the  real  crises,  in  the 
supreme  moments;  and  one  is  not  overloaded  with 
the  preparatory  labor  of  detail  and  conjecture  which 
historians,  often  erroneously,  supply.    So  much  the 

174 


THE   EMPEROR   AT   HOME 

better  for  human  glory,  for  there  is  much  that  is 
unworthy  which  should  be  omitted,  much  of  doubt 
and  vacillation:  and  all  this  should  disappear  in 
the  representation  of  the  hero.  We  should  see  him 
as  a  statue,  in  which  the  weakness  and  tremors  of 
the  flesh  are  no  longer  perceptible."  Next  to  Cor- 
neille  he  seems  to  have  loved  Racine.  But  he  was 
catholic  in  his  tastes,  and  would  readily  turn  to  Beau- 
marchais  and  the  Arabian  Nights,  though  these 
may  have  been  concessions  to  the  frailty  of  his  au- 
dience. Like  Pitt,  his  great  adversary,  he  relished 
Gil  Bias,  but  thought  it  a  bad  book  for  the  young,  as 
"  Gil  Bias  sees  only  the  dark  side  of  human  nature, 
and  the  youthful  think  that  that  is  a  true  picture  of 
the  world,  which  it  is  not."  He  frequently  read 
the  Bible;  sometimes,  in  translations.  Homer  and 
Virgil,  iEschylus,  or  Euripides.  From  English  lit- 
erature he  would  take  Paradise  Lost,  Hume's 
History  of  England,  and  Clarissa  Harloive.  With 
Ossian,  to  whatever  literature  that  poet  may  belong, 
he  would  commune  as  with  an  old  friend.  For  Vol- 
taire's Zaire  he  had  a  positive  passion.  He  had 
once  asked  Mme.  de  Montholon  to  choose  a  trag- 
edy for  the  evening's  entertainment :  she  had  chosen 
Zaire  and  thereafter  they  had  Zaire  till  they 
groaned  in  spirit  at  the  very  name. 

It  might  seem  strange  at  first  sight  that  we  see  lit- 
tle or  no  mention  of  Bossuet.  For  the  great  bishop 
had  been  the  writer  who,  at  the  critical  moment,  had 
"touched  his  trembling  ears."  The  Discourse  of 
Universal  History  had  awakened  his  mind  as  Lodi 
awoke  his  ambition.  On  the  fortunate  day  when  he 
happened  on  the  discourse,  and  read  of  Caesar,  Alex- 
ander, and  the  succession  of  empires,  the  veil  of  the 

175 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

temple,  he  tells  us,  was  rent,  and  he  beheld  the  move- 
ments of  the  gods.  From  that  time,  in  all  his  cam- 
paigns, in  Egypt,  in  Syria,  in  Germany,  on  his 
greatest  days,  that  vision  never  quitted  him.  At 
St.  Helena  it  forsook  him  forever,  and  so  we  need 
not  marvel  that  he  avoids  Bossuet. 

He  had  always  been  a  great  reader,  though  he  de- 
clared that  in  his  public  life  he  only  read  what  was 
of  direct  use  for  his  purposes.  When  he  was  a  scholar 
at  Brienne  the  frequency  of  his  demands  for  books 
was  the  torment  of  the  college  librarian.  When  he 
was  a  lieutenant  in  garrison  at  Valence  he  read 
ravenously  and  indiscriminately  everything  he  could 
lay  his  hands  on.  "  When  I  was  a  lieutenant  of  ar- 
tillery,'' he  said,  before  the  collected  princes  at  Erfurt, 
"I  was  for  three  years  in  garrison  at  Valence.  I 
spent  that  time  in  reading  and  re-reading  the  library 
there."  Later,  we  read  of  his  tearing  along  to  join 
his  armies,  his  coach  full  of  books  and  pamphlets, 
which  would  be  flung  out  of  the  window  when  he  had 
run  through  them.  When  he  travelled  with  Jose- 
phine, all  the  newest  books  were  put  into  the  carriage 
for  her  to  read  to  him.  And  though  he  declared  that 
his  reading  was  purely  practical,  he  always  had  a 
travelling  library  of  general  literature,  with  which 
he  took  great  pains.  He  had  planned  a  portable  col- 
lection of  three  thousand  choice  volumes  which  should 
be  printed  for  him.  But  when  he  found  it  would  take 
six  years,  and  a  quarter  of  a  million  sterling,  to  com- 
plete, he  wisely  abandoned  the  project.  Even  to 
Waterloo  he  was  accompanied  by  a  travelling  library 
of  eight  hundred  volumes  in  six  cases — the  Bible, 
Homer,  Ossian,  Bossuet,  and  all  the  seventy  vol- 
umes of  Voltaire.     Three  days  after  his  final  abdi- 

176 


THE   EMPEROR   AT   HOME 

cation  we  find  him  writing  for  a  library  from  Mal- 
maison,  books  on  America,  his  chosen  destination, 
books  on  himself  and  his  campaigns,  a  collection  of 
the  Moniteur,  the  best  dictionaries  and  encyclopae- 
dias. Now,  in  his  solitude,  he  devoured  them — his- 
tory, philosophy,  strategy,  and  memoirs.  Of  these 
last  alone  he  read  seventy-two  volumes  in  twelve 
months.  Nor  was  he  by  any  means  a  passive  reader ; 
he  would  scribble  on  margins,  he  would  dictate  notes 
or  criticisms.  But  the  reading  aloud  was  almost 
entirely  of  works  of  imagination,  and  the  selection 
does  not  inspire  one  with  any  passionate  wish  to 
have  been  present.  Nor,  as  we  have  seen,  did  the 
actual  audience  greatly  appreciate  the  privilege. 

What  strikes  one  most  in  his  habits  is  the  weari- 
ness and  futility  of  it  all.  One  is  irresistibly  r^ 
minded  of  a  caged  animal  walking  restlessly  and 
aimlessly  up  and  down  his  confined  den,  and  watch- 
ing the  outside  world  with  the  fierce  despair  of  his 
wild  eye.  If  Gourgaud  was  bored  to  death,  what 
must  the  Emperor  have  been ! 

He  is,  as  a  rule,  calm  and  stoical.  Sometimes,  in- 
deed, he  consoles  himself  with  a  sort  of  abstract 
grandeur;  sometimes  he  gives  a  sublime  groan. 
"Adversity  was  wanting  to  my  career,"  he  says. 
He  takes  up  one  of  the  official  year-books  of  his 
reign.  "It  was  a  fine  empire.  I  ruled  eighty-three 
millions  of  human  beings — more  than  half  the  popu- 
lation of  Europe."  He  attempts  to  control  his  emo- 
tion, as  he  turns  over  the  book,  even  to  hum  a  tune, 
but  is  too  visibly  affected.  Another  time  he  sits  in 
silence,  his  head  resting  on  his  hands.  At  last  he 
rises.  "  After  all,  what  a  romance  my  life  has  been ! " 
he  exclaims,  and  walks  out  of  the  room.  Nor  does 
M  177 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

fame  console  him,  for  he  doubts  it.  "  All  the  institu- 
tions that  I  founded  are  being  destroyed,  such  as 
the  University  and  the  Legion  of  Honor,  and  I  shall 
soon  be  forgotten."  And  again:  "History  will 
scarcely  mention  me,  for  I  was  overthrown.  Had  I 
been  able  to  maintain  my  dynasty,  it  had  been  differ- 
ent." Misgiving  of  the  future,  self-reproach  for  the 
past,  the  monotony  of  a  suppressed  life,  these  were 
the  daily  torments  that  corroded  his  soul.  For  six 
years  he  supped  the  bitterness  of  slow,  remorseful, 
desolate  death. 

Moreover,  with  his  restless  energy  thrown  back  on 
himself,  he  was  devoured  by  his  inverted  activities. 
He  could  not  exist  except  in  a  stress  of  work.  Work, 
he  said,  was  his  element;  he  was  born  and  made  for 
work.  He  had  known,  he  would  say,  the  limits  of 
his  powers  of  walking  or  of  seeing,  but  had  never  been 
able  to  ascertain  the  limits  of  his  power  of  work.  His 
mind  and  body,  says  Chaptal,  were  incapable  of  fa- 
tigue. How  was  employment  to  be  found  at  Long- 
wood  for  this  formidable  machine?  The  powers  of 
brain  and  nerve  and  body  which  had  grappled  with 
the  world  now  turned  on  him  and  rent  him.  To 
learn  enough  English  to  read  in  the  newspapers  what 
was  going  on  in  the  Europe  which  he  had  controlled, 
to  dictate  memoirs  giving  his  point  of  view  of  what 
interested  him  at  the  moment,  to  gossip  about  his 
custodians,  to  preserve  order  and  harmony  in  his  lit- 
tle household,  these  were  the  crumbs  of  existence 
which  he  was  left  to  mumble.  There  is  no  parallel 
to  his  position.  The  world  has  usually  made  short 
work  of  its  Caesars  when  it  has  done  with  them. 
Napoleon  had  sought  death  in  battle,  and  by  sui- 
cide, in  vain.     The  constant  efforts  of  assassination 

178 


THE   EMPEROR   AT   HOME 

had  been  fruitless.  The  hope  of  our  ministers  that 
the  French  government  would  shoot  or  hang  him  had 
been  disappointed.  So  Europe  buckled  itself  to  the 
unprecedented  task  of  gagging  and  paralyzing  an 
intelligence  and  a  force  which  were  too  gigantic  for 
the  welfare  and  security  of  the  world.  That  is  the 
strange,  unique,  hideous  problem  which  makes  the 
records  of  St.  Helena  so  profoundly  painful  and  fas- 
cinating. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  CONVERSATIONS  OF  NAPOLEON 

It  is  not  wise  to  record  every  word  that  falls  from 
a  great  man  in  retirement.  The  mind  which  is  ac- 
customed to  constant  activity,  and  which  is  sudden- 
ly deprived  of  employment,  is  an  engine  without  guid- 
ance; the  tongue  without  a  purpose  is  not  always 
under  control.  The  great  man  is  apt  to  soliloquize 
aloud,  and  then  the  suppressed  volume  of  passion, 
of  resentment,  of  scorn,  bursts  all  dams.  Napoleon 
was  aware  of  this  danger.  "  You  are  right  to  check 
me.  I  always  say  more  than  I  wish  when  I  allow  my- 
self to  talk  of  subjects  which  so  thrill  with  interest.'" 
There  is  not  so  much  of  this  as  might  be  expected 
in  the  conversation  of  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena.  He 
sometimes  lashes  himself  into  a  rage  over  the  gov- 
ernor, and  the  restrictions,  and  the  rock  itself,  but  as 
a  rule  he  is  calm  and  meditative,  thinking  aloud, 
often  with  contradictory  results.  This  detachment 
of  mind  had  been  noticed  on  his  return  from  Elba  by 
Lavallette.  "Never  did  I  see  him  more  impertur- 
bably  calm;  not  a  word  of  bitterness  with  any  one; 
no  impatience;  listening  to  everything,  and  discuss- 
ing everything,  with  that  rare  sagacity  and  that 
elevation  of  mind  which  were  so  remarkable  in  him; 
avowing  his  faults  with  a  touching  ingenuousness, 
or  discussing  his  position  with  a  penetration  which 
his  enemies  could  not  equal.'" 

i8o 


CONVERSATIONS   OF  NAPOLEON 

The  recorded  conversations  of  Napoleon  present  a 
certain  difficulty.  After  the  first  two  years  of  the 
Consulate  he  rarely  unbuttoned  himself  in  talk.  And 
those  with  whom  he  may  have  done  so  most  fre- 
quently, such  as  Duroc,  or  Berthier,  or  Bertrand,  are 
mute.  He  was  no  doubt  a  great  talker  in  public,  but 
when  he  talked  in  public  he  said  not  what  he  thought, 
but  what  he  wished  to  be  considered  as  his  ideas. 
At  St.  Helena  we  have  a  great  mass  of  these  disqui- 
sitions, for  he  was  always  in  the  presence  of  diarists, 
and  knew  it.  Las  Cases  and  Montholon  record  noth- 
ing else.  But  all  through  his  reign  there  are  abun- 
dant notes  of  the  clear,  eloquent,  pungent  discourse 
which  he  affected  in  public.  Villemain  gives  some 
admirable  specimens  on  the  authority  of  Narbonne. 
These  are  almost  too  elaborate  to  be  exact.  There 
is,  however,  scarcely  one  of  the  innumerable  memoirs 
published  on  the  Napoleonic  era  which  does  not  at- 
tempt to  give  specimens  of  Napoleon's  talk. 

But  to  get  at  the  man,  or  what  little  is  accessible  of 
the  man,  we  must  go  elsewhere.  In  our  judgment, 
Roederer  is  the  author  who  renders  most  faithfully  the 
conversation  of  Napoleon.  He  gives  us  specimens 
of  the  earlier  consular  style  when  Napoleon  was  still 
a  republican  in  manner  and  surroundings,  when  he 
was  still  a  learner  in  civil  government,  before  he  eyed 
a  crown ;  specimens  of  his  discourse  at  the  council  of 
state ;  chats  at  the  Malmaison  or  St.  Cloud,  and  also 
long  conversations  of  the  later  period,  reported  ver- 
batim, with  life-like  accuracy,  so  far  as  one  can  now 
judge.  Read,  for  example,  Roederer's  report  of  his 
conversations  with  Napoleon  in  January  and  Feb- 
ruary, 1809,  in  181 1,  and  especially  in  1813.  They 
form,  in  our  judgment,  the  most  vivid  representa- 

181 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

tions  of  the  Emperor  that  exist.  Concise,  frank, 
sometimes  brutal,  but  always  interesting — such  seems 
to  have  been  the  real  talk  of  Napoleon.  The  secret 
of  the  charm  is  that  he  can  bring  his  whole  mind  in- 
stantaneously into  play  on  a  subject,  and  so  he  lights 
it  up  in  a  moment  with  reminiscence,  historical  paral- 
lel, native  shrewdness,  knowledge  of  mankind  in 
general  and  of  the  men  with  whom  he  has  had  deal- 
ings in  particular. 

It  is  not  possible  to  give  a  digest  of  Napoleon's  con- 
versation at  St.  Helena.  It  is  set  forth  in  a  score  of 
volumes  of  very  unequal  merit  and  trustworthiness ; 
it  is  not  always  easy  to  separate  the  wheat  from  the 
chaff.  Some  of  these  are  filled  with  dictations  by 
Napoleon,  which  have,  of  course,  an  interest  and  dis- 
tinction of  their  own,  but  which  are  not  conversations. 
For  talk,  as  revealing  the  man,  we  feel  convinced 
that  Gourgaud's  is  the  most  faithful  transcript,  and 
far  superior  to  the  other  records.  Montholon  is  not 
so  reliable,  or  so  intelligent.  Las  Cases  pads  and 
fabricates.  O'Meara's  book  is  a  translation  into 
English  of  conversations  carried  on  in  Italian.  It  is 
both  spirited  and  interesting,  but  does  not  inspire 
any  confidence.  Gourgaud  gives,  we  believe,  an  hon- 
est narrative  and,  wiping  off  the  bilious  hues  of  jeal- 
ousy and  boredom,  an  accurate  picture.  His  are, 
indeed,  reminiscences  of  high  interest.  But  what  is 
really  remarkable  is  the  air  of  rough  truth  about  all 
that  he  records.  They  are  not  full-dress  reminis- 
cences; they  are,  as  it  were,  the  sketch  of  the  mo- 
ment on  the  wristband  and  the  thumbnail.  Where 
he  differs  from  Las  Cases  and  Montholon  we  have 
no  doubt  which  to  believe.  On  state  occasions  they 
hasten  to  drape  their  hero  in  the  toga  or  th^  dalmatic ; 

182. 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

Gourgaud  takes  him  as  he  is,  in  his  bath,  in  his  bed, 
with  a  Panama  hat  or  a  red  Madras  handkerchief 
round  his  head,  in  a  bad  temper  or  in  a  good.  We 
will  give  two  instances  of  what  we  mean — the  execu- 
tions of  Ney  and  Murat. 

Montholon  records  the  Emperor  as  saying,  on  Feb- 
ruary 2ist,  that  "  the  death  of  Ney  is  a  crime.  The 
blood  of  Ney  was  sacred  for  France.  His  conduct  in 
the  Russian  campaign  was  unequalled.  It  should 
have  covered  with  a  holy  aegis  the  crime  of  high  trea- 
son, if,  indeed,  Ney  had  really  committed  it.  But 
Ney  did  not  betray  the  King,"  and  so  forth.  This 
expression  of  feeling  is  what  the  public  would  expect 
Napoleon  to  have  uttered,  though  hardly  on  February 
21  st,  as  he  did  not  receive  the  news  of  Ney's  execu- 
tion till  the  middle  of  March.  Gourgaud  records  no 
such  language;  he  reports  Napoleon  as  varying  in 
his  view.  Once  he  says  that  they  have  assassinated 
Ney;  at  another  time  he  declares  that  he  only  got 
his  deserts.  "No  one  should  break  his  word;  I  de- 
spise traitors. "  "  Ney  has  dishonored  himself. "  "  He 
was  precious  on  the  field  of  battle,  but  too  immoral 
and  too  stupid  to  succeed."  Napoleon  even  goes  so 
far  as  to  say  that  he  ought  never  to  have  made  Ney  a 
marshal  of  France;  that  he  should  have  left  him  a 
general  of  division ;  for  he  had,  as  Caffarelli  had  said 
of  him,  just  the  courage  and  honesty  of  a  hussar. 
He  says  that  in  1 814  he  was  a  mere  traitor;  that  he 
behaved,  as  always,  like  a  rascal.  Contrast  this 
with  the  Duchesse  d'Angoul^me's  remorse  on  read- 
ing Segur's  History  of  the  Russian  Campaign. 
"Had  we  known  in  181 5,"  she  says,  "what  Ney  did 
in  Russia,  he  would  never  have  been  executed. "  Con- 
trast this  with  Napoleon  himself  when  in  Russia^ 

183 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

"  What  a  man !  What  a  soldier !  Ney  is  lost !  I  have 
three  hundred  millions  in  the  cellars  of  the  Tuileries. 
I  would  give  them  all  to  get  him  back. "  We  can  only 
conclude  from  this  cruel  change  that  Napoleon  never 
forgot  or  forgave  the  terrible  interview  with  Ney  at 
Fontainebleau  in  April,  1 814,  nor  the  vaunt  of  Ney 
in  1 81 5  to  bring  him  back  in  a  cage.  He  only  sum- 
moned him  to  the  army,  indeed,  at  the  last  moment 
before  Ligny.  At  the  end  there  was,  in  truth,  no  love 
lost  between  the  two  heroes. 

Again  there  comes  the  news  of  the  death  of  Murat. 
As  in  the  case  of  Napoleon's  discourse  to  Montholon 
about  Ney's  death,  there  is  a  strange  particularity 
in  this  event,  in  that  it  is  first  announced  to  Napo- 
leon by  three  separate  people.  Las  Cases  reads  him 
the  news.  "At  these  unexpected  words  the  Em- 
peror seizes  me  by  the  arm,  and  cries, '  The  Calabri- 
ans  were  more  humane,  more  generous,  than  those 
who  sent  me  here.'  This  was  all.  After  a  few  mo- 
ments of  silence,  as  he  said  no  more,  I  continued 
reading."  This,  perhaps,  is  the  authorized  version, 
as  it  is  that  given  in  the  Letters  from  the  Cape. 

O'Meara  also  brought  the  first  news.  "  He  heard 
it  with  calmness,  and  immediately  demanded  if  Mu- 
rat had  perished  on  the  field  of  battle.  At  first  I 
hesitated  to  tell  him  that  his  brother-in-law  had  been 
executed  like  a  criminal.  On  his  repeating  the  ques- 
tion, I  informed  him  of  the  manner  in  which  Murat 
had  been  put  to  death,  which  he  listened  to  without 
any  change  of  countenance." 

Then  Gourgaud  brings  the  first  tidings.  "I  an- 
nounce the  fatal  news  to  His  Majesty,  who  keeps 
the  same  countenance,  and  remarks  that  Murat 
must  have  been  mad  to  risk  such  an  enterprise.    I 

184 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

say  that  it  grieves  me  to  think  of  a  brave  man  Hke 
Murat,  who  had  so  often  faced  death,  dying  by 
the  hands  of  such  people.  The  Emperor  cries  out 
that  it  is  horrible.  I  urge  that  Ferdinand  should 
not  have  allowed  him  to  be  killed.  'That  is  your 
way  of  thinking,  young  people,  but  one  does  not 
trifle  with  a  throne.  Could  he  be  considered  as  a 
French  general?  He  was  one  no  longer.  As  a 
king?  But  he  had  never  been  recognized  (by  the 
Bourbons?)  as  one.  Ferdinand  had  him  shot,  just 
as  he  has  had  a  number  of  people  hanged. ' "  But 
Gourgaud  watches  him,  as  they  read  the  newspa- 
pers to  him,  and  says  that  he  suffers. 

We  cannot  tell  which  of  the  three  chroniclers  really 
first  reported  the  news  to  Napoleon,  but  we  feel  that 
Gourgaud 's  narrative  is  vivid  and  true.  Long  af- 
terwards Napoleon  says  to  Gourgaud  :  "  Murat  only 
got  what  he  deserved.  But  it  is  all  my  fault,  for  I 
should  have  left  him  a  marshal,  and  never  have 
made  him  King  of  Naples,  or  even  Grand  Duke  of 
Berg." 

So  in  the  few  specimens  that  we  propose  to  give 
of  Napoleon's  conversation  at  St.  Helena  we  shall 
mainly  confine  ourselves  to  the  notes  taken  by  Gour- 
gaud. Napoleon,  however,  repeated  himself  con- 
stantly, and  so  we  obtain  corroborative  versions  of 
many  sayings  in  all  the  chronicles  of  the  exile. 

One  of  the  chief  topics  was  religion,  and  one  of 
the  books  that  Napoleon  most  loved  to  read  aloud 
was  the  Bible.  The  reading  was  not  always  for  the 
highest  motive,  for  on  one  occasion  he  reads  up  the 
books  of  Samuel  and  Kings  to  see  what  is  their  tes- 
timony in  favor  of  legitimate  monarchy.  But  on 
other  occasions  the  Bible  is  read  with  no  such  ob- 

185 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

ject;  and  he  was,  we  are  told,  a  great  admirer  of 
St.  Paul.  His  thoughts,  indeed,  in  this  dark  hour, 
turn  much  to  questions  of  faith,  not  altogether  to 
edification.  We  have,  of  course,  often  read  anec- 
dotes in  which  he  is  represented  as  pointing  to  the 
firmament,  and  declaiming  a  vague  deism.  New- 
man, too,  in  a  noble  passage,  has  given  from  tra- 
dition the  final  judgment  passed  on  Christianity  by 
Napoleon  at  St.  Helena,  wherein  Napoleon  is  re- 
ported to  have  compared  the  shadowy  fame  of  Caesar 
and  Alexander  with  the  living  force  of  Christ,  and 
to  have  summed  up  with,  "  Can  He  be  less  than  di- 
vine?" But  the  real  Napoleon  talked  in  a  very  dif- 
ferent fashion.  Gourgaud  talks  of  the  stars  and 
their  Creator  in  the  way  attributed  to  Napoleon,  but 
the  latter  snubs  him.  Briefly,  Napoleon's  real  lean- 
ing seems  to  be  to  Mahometanism ;  his  objection 
to  Christianity  is  that  it  is  not  sufficiently  ancient. 
Had  it  existed,  he  says,  since  the  beginning  of  the 
world,  he  could  believe  it.  But  it  had  not ;  nor  could 
it  have  sustained  itself  till  now  without  the  Cruci- 
fixion and  the  Crown  of  Thorns,  for  mankind  is  thus 
constituted.  Nor  can  he  accept  that  form  of  religion 
which  would  damn  Socrates,  Plato,  and,  he  courte- 
ously adds,  the  English.  Why,  in  any  case,  should 
punishment  be  eternal?  Moreover,  he  declares  that 
he  was  much  disturbed  by  the  arguments  of  the 
sheiks  in  Egypt,  who  contended  that  those  who 
worshipped  three  deities  must  necessarily  be  pagans. 
Mahometanism,  on  the  other  hand,  is  more  sim- 
ple, and,  he  characteristically  adds,  is  superior  to 
Christianity  in  that  it  conquered  half  the  world  in 
ten  years,  while  Christianity  took  three  hundred 
years  to  establish  itself.    Another  time  he  decliares 

i86 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

Mahometanism  to  be  the  most  beautiful  of  all  relig- 
ions.    And  once  he  even  says,  "We  Mahometans." 

Although  he  prefers  Mahometanism  to  Christian- 
ity, he  prefers  the  Roman  to  the  Anglican  commun- 
ion, or,  at  any  rate,  the  Roman  to  the  Anglican  ritual. 
He  gives  as  the  reason  for  his  preference  that  in  the 
Roman  Church  the  people  do  not  understand  the 
prayers,  and  that  it  is  not  wise  to  try  and  make  such 
matters  too  clear.  And  yet  he  thinks  that  the  clergy 
should  marry,  though  he  should  hesitate  to  confess 
himself  to  a  married  priest,  who  would  repeat  every- 
thing to  his  wife.  He  declares  that  he  himself,  hav- 
ing been  anointed,  is  capable  of  confessing  a  peni- 
tent. He  is  not  so  favorable  to  the  hierarchy  as  to  the 
ritual  of  Rome.  He  is  hostile  to  the  papacy,  Britain 
and  northern  Europe  have  wisely,  he  says,  emanci- 
pated themselves  from  this  yoke,  for  it  is  ridiculous 
that  the  chief  of  the  state  should  not  be  chief  of  the 
church  of  the  state.  For  this  reason  he  regrets  that 
Francis  I.  did  not,  as  he  nearly  did,  emancipate  him- 
self and  his  people  by  adhering  to  the  Reformation. 
He  himself  had  regretted  in  old  days,  when  wearied 
with  his  disastrous  struggle  against  the  papacy,  that 
instead  of  concluding  the  concordat,  he  had  not  de- 
clared himself  a  Protestant.  The  nation  would  have 
followed  him,  and  would  have  thus  freed  itself  from 
the  yoke  of  Rome. 

But,  as  he  proceeds,  he  becomes  more  hostile  to 
Christianity.  "As  for  me,"  he  breaks  out  on  one 
occasion,  "my  opinion  is  formed  that  (the  divine?) 
Christ  never  existed.  He  was  put  to  death  like  any 
other  fanatic  who  professed  to  be  a  prophet  or  a  mes- 
siah.  There  were  constantly  people  of  this  kind. 
Then  I  look  back  f  ron^  the  New  Testament  to  the  014, 

i87 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

I  find  one  able  man — Moses — but  the  Jews  are  cow- 
ardly and  cruel. "  And  he  ends  by  returning  to  the 
Bible  with  a  map  and  declaring  that  he  will  write 
the  campaigns  of  Moses. 

So  slight  is  his  belief  in  the  Saviour  that  he  men- 
tions as  an  extraordinary  fact  that  Pope  Pius  VIL 
did  actually  believe  in  Christ. 

As  to  man,  he  proclaims  himself  a  materialist. 
Sometimes  he  thinks  that  man  was  created  in  some 
particular  temperature  of  the  air ;  sometimes  that  he 
was  produced  from  clay,  "  as  Herodotus  narrates  that 
Nile  mud  was  transformed  into  rats,"  that  he  was 
warmed  by  the  sun,  and  combined  with  electric  fluids. 
"Say  what  you  like,  everything  is  matter,  more  or  less 
organized.  When  out  hunting  I  had  the  deer  cut  open 
and  saw  that  their  interior  was  the  same  as  that  of 
man.  A  man  is  only  a  more  perfect  being  than  a  dog 
or  a  tree,  and  living  better.  The  plant  is  the  first  link 
in  a  chain,  of  which  man  is  the  last.  I  know  that 
this  is  all  contrary  to  religion,  but  it  is  my  opinion 
that  we  are  all  matter.''  Again:  "What  are  elec- 
tricity, galvanism,  magnetism?  In  these  lies  the 
great  secret  of  nature.  Galvanism  works  in  silence. 
I  think  myself  that  man  is  the  product  of  these  fluids 
and  of  the  atmosphere,  that  the  brain  pumps  up  these 
fluids  and  imparts  life,  and  that  the  soul  is  composed 
of  these  fluids,  which  after  death  return  into  the  atmos- 
phere, whence  they  are  pumped  into  other  brains." 

Again:  "When  we  are  dead,  my  dear  Gourgaud, 
we  are  altogether  dead."  What  is  a  soul  ?  Where  is 
the  soul  of  a  sleeper  or  of  a  madman  or  of  a  babe? 

Another  time  he  breaks  out :  "  Were  I  obliged  to 
have  a  religion,  I  would  worship  the  sun — the  source 
of  all  life — the  real  god  of  the  earth." 

1 88 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

The  editors  think  that  Napoleon  talked  in  this  way 
in  a  spirit  of  opposition  to  Gourgaud,  who  was  a  be- 
liever— more  or  less  orthodox.  He  did,  we  think,  often 
argue  thus  to  bring  out  the  strength  of  the  orthodox 
position.  But  often  he  is  only  thinking  aloud  in  the 
bitterness  of  his  heart — as  when  he  says  that  he  can- 
not believe  in  a  just  God  punishing  and  rewarding,  for 
good  people  are  always  unfortunate  and  scoundrels 
are  always  lucky.  "  Look  at  Talleyrand ;  he  is  sure 
to  die  in  his  bed.  " 

Bertrand  thinks,  says  Gourgaud,  that  the  Em- 
peror "has  religion,"  and  we  certainly  think  that 
Napoleon  was  more  religious  than  these  conversa- 
tions represent.  But  he  had  much  leeway  to  make 
up.  He  was  the  child  of  that  Revolution  which  ab- 
jured religion.  And  yet  there  was  strength  in  him 
to  perform  the  most  courageous  acts  of  his  life,  the 
restoration  of  the  French  Church,  the  conclusion  of 
the  concordat,  and  the  compelling  his  scoffing  com- 
panions at  arms  to  follow  him  to  church. 

Whatever  may  have  been  his  motives,  they  must 
have  been  potent  to  make  him  break  with  the  tradi- 
tions of  his  manhood.  For  religious  faith  and  ob- 
servance which  still  lurked  timidly  in  the  civil  life 
of  France  had  disappeared  from  among  its  soldiers. 
"The  French  army  at  this  time,"  says  Count  Laval- 
lette  of  the  army  of  Egypt,  "was  remarkably  free 
from  any  feeling  of  religion." 

And  the  same  author  tells  a  curious  anecdote  of 
a  French  officer  who  was  with  him  on  a  boat  which 
was  nearly  wrecked.  The  officer  says  the  Lord's 
Prayer  from  beginning  to  end.  When  the  danger 
is  over  he  is  much  ashamed,  and  apologizes  thus : 
"  I  am  thirty-eight  years  old,  and  I  have  never  uttered 

189 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

a  prayer  since  I  was  six.  I  cannot  understand  how 
it  came  into  my  head  just  then,  for  I  declare  that  at 
this,  moment  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  remem- 
ber a  word  of  it."  And  this  hostility  to  religion 
seems  to  have  continued,  in  spite  of  concordats,  to 
the  end  of  Napoleon's  reign;  for,  as  we  are  told  on 
the  same  authority,  when  mass  was  celebrated  in  the 
Emperor's  presence  at  the  great  function  of  the  Champ 
de  Mai  during  the  Hundred  Days,  thirteen  years  after 
the  concordat,  every  one  turned  their  backs  to  the 
altar. 

His  life  of  camps,  his  revolutionary  associations, 
his  conflict  with  the  papacy,  kept  Napoleon  aloof  from 
the  faith  in  which  he  was  born.  Talleyrand  told 
Charles  Greville  that  Louis  XVIIL  was  surprised, 
on  arriving  in  Paris,  to  find  that  the  ante-library 
of  his  predecessor's  cabinet  consisted  principally  of 
books  on  theological  subjects,  and  that  these  were  his 
favorite  study.  Greville  asked  in  reply  if  Talleyrand 
thought  that  Napoleon  was  a  believer.  "  Je  suis 
porte  h  croire  qu'il  &ait  croyant,  mais  il  avait  le  gout 
de  ces  sujets,"  said  Talleyrand.  We  can  only  offer 
the  commentary  that  the  religious  faith  of  Napoleon 
was  at  least  equal  to  that  of  his  successor  on  the 
throne,  or  to  that  of  his  prince  of  Benevento. 

All  that  we  can  safely  gather  from  his  conversa- 
tion at  St.  Helena  is  that  his  mind  turns  greatly  on 
these  questions  of  religion.  He  ponders  and  strug- 
gles. A  remark  which  he  lets  fall  at  St.  Helena  ex- 
plains probably  his  normal  state  of  mind.  "  Only  a 
fool,"  he  says  one  day,  "  says  that  he  will  die  without 
a  confessor.  There  is  so  much  that  one  does  not 
know,  that  one  cannot  explain."  And  as  he  spoke  of 
the  mysteries  of  religion,  we  may  speak  of  his  frame 

190 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

of  mind  with  regard  to  them.  "  There  is  so  much  that 
one  does  not  know,  that  one  cannot  explain." 

Besides  this  high  and  engrossing  topic.  Napoleon 
ranges  over  a  hundred  others,  characteristic  of  the 
man,  and  interesting  to  us,  besides  his  discursive 
reminiscences  and  his  acute  views  of  the  future. 
These  last,  as  recorded  by  Las  Cases  and  Montholon, 
give  one  the  idea  rather  of  political  programmes, 
destined  for  external  consumption,  than  of  his  own 
inner  thoughts.  Some  are  professedly  so.  Montho- 
lon, as  it  were,  suddenly  produces  from  his  port- 
folio a  constitution  dictated  by  Napoleon  for  the  em- 
pire of  France  under  his  son.  We  do  not  know  if  it 
be  authentic,  but  we  observe  that  the  editors  of  the 
Emperor's  works  coldly  ignore  it.  We  ourselves  in- 
cline to  the  belief  that  it  was  composed  in  the  seclu- 
sion of  Ham  with  an  eye  to  the  Bonaparte  restora- 
tion, which  soon  afterwards  took  place.  The  official 
editors  print,  however,  Montholon's  record  of  the  in- 
structions dictated  by  the  dying  man  for  his  son  on 
April  17,  182 1,  which  seems  to  be  a  genuine  mani- 
festo. 

To  us,  of  course,  what  he  says  of  the  English  is 
of  rare  interest.  He  had  all  his  life  been  waging  war 
against  Britain  in  some  form  or  another,  and  yet  he 
had  always  been  strangely  ignorant  with  regard  to 
us.  Metternich,  who  had  been  in  England,  noticed 
when  Napoleon  was  on  the  throne,  that  as  regards 
England  he  believed  only  what  he  chose  to  believe, 
and  that  these  ideas  were  totally  false.  This  is  the 
more  strange,  for  the  cause  of  his  victories  lay  largely 
in  the  care  with  which  he  studied  his  adversaries. 
And,  throughout  his  reign,  he  had  kept  a  keen  eye 
on  British  journalism  and  British  politics.     His  sen- 

191 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

sitiveness  to  the  criticism  of  English  newspapers, 
which,  after  all,  was  the  only  newspaper  criticism 
that  he  had  to  face,  was  no  secret  to  his  household. 
He  insisted  on  every  abusive  phrase  being  translated 
to  him,  and  was  furious  at  the  result.  In  spite  of 
this  painful  education  he  never  at  St.  Helena  touched 
on  the  English  without  betraying  the  strangest  ig- 
norance of  their  character  and  habits  of  mind.  "  Had 
I,''  he  says,  "been  allowed  to  go  to  London  in  1815, 
I  should  have  been  carried  in  triumph.  All  the  popu- 
lace would  have  been  on  my  side,  and  my  reasoning 
would  have  convinced  the  Greys  and  the  Grenvilles." 
Even  had  he  entered  London  as  a  conqueror,  he 
seems  to  have  persuaded  himself  that  the  result  would 
have  been  the  same.  He  told  Las  Cases  that  four 
days  after  landing  in  England  he  would  have 
been  in  London.  "I  should  have  entered  it,  not  as 
a  conqueror,  but  as  a  liberator.  I  should  have  been 
William  III.  over  again,  but  more  generous  and  more 
disinterested.  The  discipline  of  my  army  would  have 
been  perfect,  and  the  troops  would  have  behaved  as 
if  they  were  in  Paris.  No  sacrifices,  not  even  an 
indemnity,  would  have  been  exacted  from  the  Eng- 
lish. We  should  have  presented  ourselves,  not  as 
conquerors,  but  as  brothers  who  came  to  restore  to 
them  their  liberties  and  their  rights.  I  should  have 
bade  the  English  work  out  their  own  regeneration 
themselves;  for,  as  they  were  our  elders  in  polit- 
ical legislation,  we  wished  to  have  nothing  to  do  with 
it  except  to  enjoy  their  happiness  and  prosperity; 
and  I  should  have  acted  in  good  faith.  So  that  in  a 
few  months  the  two  nations,  so  long  hostile,  would 
have  become  identical  by  their  principles,  their  max- 
ims, and  their  interests.''    It  is  scarcely  necessary  to 

192 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

point  out  that  he  did  not  believe  a  word  of  this  ridicu- 
lous rhodomontade,  but  that  he  should  have  launched 
it  at  all  indicates  an  amazing  ignorance  of  the  people 
whom  he  proposed  to  assimilate. 

He  liked  to  listen  to  the  stories  of  Las  Cases's  resi- 
dence in  England,  the  scandals  of  the  court,  and  of 
Carlton  House,  where  Las  Cases  had  been  presented. 
("And  what  the  devil  were  you  doing  there?"  the 
Emperor  not  unnaturally  asked  at  this  point. )  Other- 
wise he  derived  but  little  assistance  from  his  suite  in 
the  elucidation  of  the  British  character.  Gourgaud, 
for  example,  thought  that  the  riots,  of  which  so  much 
was  being  said  in  England,  were  a  political  sect ;  or, 
as  his  editors  explain  it,  the  advanced  guard  of  the 
Whig  party. 

What  did  he  think  of  the  English?  Though  he 
sometimes  broke  out  against  them,  not  unnaturally, 
he  seems  to  have  held  them  in  a  certain  unspoken 
respect.  "The  British  nation  would  be  very  incap- 
able of  contending  with  us  if  we  had  only  their  na- 
tional spirit,"  he  said  on  one  occasion.  When  he  is 
most  bitter  he  quotes  Paoli,  the  real  author  of  the 
famous  phrase,  "They  are  a  nation  of  shopkeepers." 
" Sono  mercanti,  as  Paoli  used  to  say." 

Sometimes  he  gibed,  not  unreasonably,  at  the  na- 
tion which  had  been  his  most  persistent  enemy  and 
which  had  accepted  the  invidious  charge  of  his  cus- 
tody. But  once  he  paid  them  a  noble  tribute.  He 
begins  quaintly  enough :  "  The  English  character  is 
superior  to  ours.  Conceive  Romilly,  one  of  the  lead- 
ers of  a  great  party,  committing  suicide  at  fifty  be- 
cause he  had  lost  his  wife.  They  are  in  everything 
more  practical  than  we  are:  they  emigrate,  they 
marry,  they  kill  themselves,  with  less  indecision 
N  193 


4c 


NAPOLEON:  THE  LAST  PHASE 

than  we  display  in  going  to  the  opera.  They  are 
also  braver  than  we  are.  I  think  one  can  say  that 
in  courage  they  are  to  us  what  we  are  to  the  Rus- 
sians, what  the  Russians  are  to  the  Germans,  what 
the  Germans  are  to  the  Italians.''  And  then  he  pro- 
ceeds :  "  Had  I  had  an  English  army  I  should  have 
conquered  the  universe,  for  I  could  have  gone  all  over 
the  world  without  demoralizing  my  troops.  Had  I 
been,  in  1 8 15,  the  choice  of  the  English,  as  I  was  of 
the  French,  I  might  have  lost  the  battle  of  Waterloo 
without  losing  a  vote  in  the  Legislature  or  a  soldier 
from  my  ranks.  I  should  have  won  the  game. "  Has 
there  been,  considering  the  speaker  and  the  circum- 
stances, more  signal  praise  of  our  national  character? 
On  two  other  occasions,  when  on  the  throne,  he 
had,  in  confidential  talk,  paid  rare  compliments  to 
Britain.  To  Auguste  de  Stael,  who  had  declared 
that  he  could  not  serve  under  the  French  Govern- 
ment, for  it  had  persecuted  his  mother.  Napoleon 
said,  "Then  you  must  go  to  England,  for  after  all 
there  are  only  two  nations,  France  and  England ;  the 
rest  are  nothing."  Still  more  remarkable  was  his 
language  to  Foy.  In  the  midst  of  the  Peninsular 
War  Foy  came  to  Paris  and  had  two  or  three  inter- 
views with  the  Emperor.  One  day  Napoleon  said  to 
him  abruptly:  "Tell  me,  are  my  soldiers  fighting 
well?"  "What  do  you  mean,  Sire?  Of  course  .  .  ." 
"  Yes,  yes,  I  know.  But  are  they  afraid  of  the  Eng- 
lish soldiers?"  "Sire,  they  respect  them,  but  do  not 
fear  them."  "Well,  you  see,  the  English  have  al- 
ways beaten  them :  Cressy,  Agincourt,  Marlborough." 
''But,  Sire,  the  battle  of  Fontenoy."  "Ah!  the  bat- 
tle of  Fontenoy.  That  is  a  day  that  made  the  mon- 
archy live  forty  years  longer  than  it  would  otherwise. " 

194 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

On  another  occasion,  at  St.  Helena,  when  Napo- 
leon conceived  Lady  Malcolm  to  be  saying  that  he 
hated  England,  he  interrupted  her  with  much  ani- 
mation, saying  she  was  mistaken,  he  did  not  hate 
the  English ;  on  the  contrary,  he  had  always  had  the 
highest  opinion  of  their  character.  "I  have  been 
deceived,  and  here  I  am  on  a  vile  rock  in  the  midst 
of  the  ocean."  "I  believe  there  are  more  honorable 
men  in  England,  proportionately,  than  in  any  other 
country — but  then  there  are  some  very  bad;  they 
are  in  extremes."  Again:  "The  English  are  quite 
a  different  race  from  us ;  they  have  something  of  the 
bulldog  in  them;  they  love  blood.  They  are  fero- 
cious, they  fear  death  less  than  we  do,  have  more 
philosophy,  and  live  more  from  day  to  day." 

He  thought  well  and  justly  of  our  blockades  (les 
anglais  hloquent  tr^s  bien),  but  ill,  and  with  even 
more  justice,  of  our  diplomacy.  He  could  not  un- 
derstand, and  posterity  shares  his  bewilderment, 
why  the  British  had  derived  so  "little  benefit  ^oni 
their  long  struggle  and  their  victory.  He  thinks 
that  they  must  have  been  stung  by  the  reproach 
of  being  a  nation  of  shopkeepers,  and  have  wished 
to  show  their  magnanimity.  "  Probably  for  a  thou- 
sand years  such  another  opportunity  of  aggrandiz- 
ing England  will  not  occur.  In  the  position  of  affairs 
nothing  could  have  been  refused  to  you."  It  was 
ridiculous,  he  sad,  to  leave  Batavia  to  the  Dutch, 
and  Bourbon  and  Pondicherry  to  the  French.  He 
would  not  have  given  a  farthing  for  either,  had  it 
not  been  for  his  hope  of  driving  the  English  out  of 
India.  "  Your  ministers,  too,"  he  says,  "  should  have 
stipulated  for  a  commercial  monopoly  in  the  seas 
of  India  and  China.  You  ought  not  to  have  allowed 
•  195 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

the  French  or  any  other  nation  to  put  their  nose  be- 
yond the  Cape.  ...  At  present  the  EngHsh  can 
dictate  to  the  world,  more  especially  if  they  with- 
draw their  troops  from  the  Continent,  relegate  Wel- 
lington to  his  estates,  and  remain  a  purely  maritime 
power.  She  can  then  do  what  she  likes."  "You 
want  old  Lord  Chatham  for  a  prime  minister/'  he 
says  another  day. 

Again:  "You  English  have  imposed  a  contribu- 
tion on  France  of  seven  hundred  millions  of  francs, 
but,  after  all,  I  imposed  one  of  ten  milliards  on  your 
country.  While  you  raised  yours  by  your  bayonets, 
I  raised  mine  through  your  Parliament." 

He  set  himself  to  learn  English,  and  Las  Cases  to 
teach  him.  The  lessons  were  pursued  for  three 
months,  "sometimes  with  an  admirable  ardor  — 
sometimes  with  a  visible  disgust,"  from  January  to 
April,  i8i6,  and  then  ceased  entirely.  There  had 
already  been  an  abortive  attempt  on  the  voyage. 
Las  Cases,  who  had  himself  since  his  return  to  France 
somewhat  forgotten  the  spoken  language,  says  that 
his  illustrious  pupil  managed  to  some  extent  to  un- 
derstand English  as  he  read  it,  but  that  his  pronun- 
ciation was  so  extraordinary  as  to  constitute  to  some 
extent  a  new  language.  The  longest  specimen  that 
we  possess  of  Napoleon's  English  is  thus  phonet- 
ically given  by  Henry,  who  heard  it,  "Veech  you 
tink  de  best  town?"  He  wrote  an  English  letter 
under  an  assumed  name  to  Las  Cases,  which  the 
facile  courtier  declares  to  have  deceived  him.  We 
give  it  here  as  the  only  written  English  of  Napo- 
leon's that  we  possess,  and  as  a  proof  of  the  polite 
credulity  of  Las  Cases. 

"Count  Lascases.    Since  sixt  wek,  y  learn  the 

196 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

english  and  y  do  not  any  progress.  Sixt  week  do 
fourty  and  two  day.  If  might  have  learn  fivty  word, 
for  day,  i  could  know  it  two  thousands  and  two  hun- 
dred. It  is  in  the  dictionary  more  of  foorty  thou- 
sand ;  even  he  could  most  twenty ;  hot  much  of  tems. 
For  know  it  or  hundred  and  twenty  week  which  do 
more  two  years.  After  this  you  shall  agree  that 
the  study  one  tongue  is  a  great  labor  who  it  must  do 
into  the  young  aged. 

"  Longwood,  this  morning,  the  seven  march  thurs- 
day  one  thousand  eight  hundred  sixteen  after  na- 
tivity the  yors  (sic)  (lord)  Jesus  Christ.'' 

It  was  thus  addressed: 

"Count  Lascases,  chambellan  of  the  S.M.,  Long- 
wood;  into  his  polac:  very  press." 

He  read  English  history  with  interest,  having 
read  none  since  he  left  school.  "  I  am  reading  Hume, " 
he  said  one  day.  "These  English  are  a  ferocious 
race;  what  crimes  there  are  in  their  history.  Think 
of  Henry  VIII.  marrying  Lady  Seymour  the  day 
after  he  had  had  Anne  Boleyn  beheaded.  We  should 
never  have  done  such  a  thing  in  our  country.  Nero 
never  committed  such  crimes.  And  Queen  Mary! 
Ah!  the  Salic  law  is  an  excellent  arrangement." 
But  the  most  interesting  result  of  this  is  that  he  dis- 
courses on  the  analogies  between  Cromwell  and  him- 
self. There  is  no  doubt,  he  thinks,  some  resem- 
blance between  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  and  the  French 
Revolution,  but  there  can  be  no  real  comparison 
between  the  position  of  Cromwell  and  himself.  Na- 
poleon was  thrice  chosen  by  the  free  election  of  the 
people,  and  the  French  army  had  only  waged  war 
with  strangers.  Cromwell  had  one  essential  qual- 
ity, dissimulation;  he  had  also  great  political  tal- 

^97 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

ents,  and  consummate  judgment,  for  there  was  no 
action  in  his  hfe  which  could  be  criticised  as  being 
ill  calculated.  Was  he  a  great  general?  Napoleon 
does  not  know  enough  of  him  to  judge. 

On  French  history  he  makes  one  or  two  interesting 
and  indeed  startling  remarks.  St.  Louis  he  consid- 
ered an  "imbecile.''  To  Lady  Malcolm  he  said  that 
Henry  IV.  was  undoubtedly  the  greatest  man  that 
ever  sat  on  the  throne  of  France.  But  this  judg- 
ment was  only  for  external  use :  in  his  interior  circle 
he  spoke  very  differently.  Henry  IV.,  he  declared, 
never  did  anything  great.  Voltaire  made  him  the 
fashion  by  the  Henriade,  and  then  he  was  ex- 
alted in  order  to  depreciate  Louis  XIV.,  who  was 
hated.  Napoleon  laughed  when  he  saw  Henry  de- 
scribed as  the  greatest  captain  of  ancient  or  modern 
times.  He  was,  no  doubt,  a  good  sort  of  man,  brave, 
and  would  charge  sword  in  hand;  but,  after  all,  an 
old  graybeard  pursuing  women  in  the  streets  of  Paris 
could  only  be  an  old  fool. 

Louis  XIV.,  in  the  opinion  of  the  Emperor,  was 
the  greatest  King  that  France  had  had.  "  There  are 
only  he  and  I.  He  had  four  hundred  thousand  men 
under  arms,  and  a  King  of  France  who  could  collect 
such  a  host  could  be  no  ordinary  man.  Only  he  or 
I  was  able  to  raise  such  armies."  Had  he  himself 
lived  under  the  old  monarchy,  he  thinks  he  would 
have  risen  to  be  a  marshal.  For,  as  it  was,  he  had 
been  remarked  as  a  lieutenant :  he  would  soon  have 
become  a  colonel  and  been  placed  on  the  staff  of  a 
marshal,  whom  he  would  have  guided,  and  under 
whom  he  would  have  distinguished  himself. 

He  utters  one  speculation  on  contemporary  French 
history,  which   must  not  be  taken   too   seriously, 

J98 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

"Would  to  God,"  he  says,  "that  the  King  and  the 
princes  had  remained  (in  March,  1815).  The  troops 
would  have  come  over  to  me:  the  King  and  the 
princes  would  have  been  massacred;  and  so  Louis 
XVIII.  would  not  be  on  the  throne/'  Sometimes 
in  his  wrath  he  flies  out  against  France  herself: 
"She  has  been  violated,  she  is  henceforth  only  a 
cowardly,  dishonored  country.  She  has  only  had 
her  deserts,  for  instead  of  rallying  to  me,  she  deserted 
me.'' 

He  talks  freely  of  his  family.  And  it  is  perhaps 
his  frankness  in  this  respect  that  chiefly  distinguishes 
him  from  a  sovereign  born  in  the  purple.  No  one 
can  conceive  the  contemporary  emperors,  Alexander 
or  Francis,  conversing  with  their  suites  on  the  most 
intimate  family  matters.  One  might  almost  say 
that  this  is  the  note  of  distinction  between  the  legiti- 
mate and  the  parvenu  sovereign.  At  any  rate,  the 
Empress  Catherine,  who  was  born  remote  from  the 
prospect  of  a  throne,  had  this  surprising  candor. 

His  family  was,  he  says,  among  the  first  in  Cor- 
sica, and  he  had  still  a  great  number  of  cousins  in  the 
island.  He  reckons  them,  indeed,  at  eighty.  He 
was  sure  that  a  number  of  these  were  among  the 
band  of  Corsicans  who  followed  Murat  in  his  mad 
and  fatal  attempt  at  Pizzo;  though  as  a  matter  of 
fact  the  clan  Bonaparte  in  Corsica  would  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  Murat  or  his  expedition.  But  he  did 
not  care  to  be  considered  a  Corsican  at  all.  In  the 
first  place,  he  was  French :  "  I  was  bom  in  1769,  when 
Corsica  had  been  united  to  France  " ;  though  his  ene- 
mies accused  him  of  having  exchanged  birthdays 
with  Joseph,  who  was  born  in  1768,  and  so  before 
the  union.     A  tactless  mayor  of  Lyons,  under  this 

199 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

belief,  had  innocently  complimented  him  on  having 
done  so  much  for  France,  though  not  a  Frenchman. 
But,  secondly,  putting  his  French  nationality  aside, 
he  protested  that  he  was  rather  Italian  or  Tuscan 
than  Corsican.  Two  centuries  ago  his  family  lived 
in  Tuscany.  "I  have  one  foot  in  Italy,  and  one  in 
France."  It  is  obvious  to  the  candid  reader  that  both 
feet  were  politically  of  use  to  him,  for  he  reigned  in 
France  and  Italy.  His  Corsican  origin  was  of  no 
use  to  him,  and  was,  therefore,  minimized. 

He  makes  some  curious  remarks  about  his  de- 
scent. There  was  a  tendency  at  one  time  to  prove 
it  from  the  Man  in  the  Iron  Mask.  It  came  about 
in  this  way.  The  Governor  of  Pignerol,  where  the 
mysterious  prisoner  was  confined,  was  named  Bom- 
pars  :  he  was  said  to  have  married  his  daughter  to 
the  captive  (who  was,  in  the  belief  of  Napoleon,  the 
brother  of  Louis  XIV.),  and  smuggled  them  off  to 
Corsica  under  the  name  of  Bonaparte.  "I  had  only 
to  say  the  word,"  said  the  Emperor,  "and  this  fable 
would  have  been  believed." 

When  he  married  Marie  Louise,  the  Emperor  Fran- 
cis became  anxious  as  to  his  son-in-law's  nobility  of 
birth,  and  sent  him  a  packet  of  papers  establishing 
his  descent  from  the  Dukes  of  Florence.  Napoleon 
returned  them  to  Mettemich  with  the  remark  that  he 
had  nothing  to  do  with  such  tomfoolery;  that  in  any 
case  the  Dukes  of  Florence  were  inferior  to  the  Em- 
perors of  Germany;  that  he  would  not  be  inferior  to 
his  father-in-law,  and  that  his  nobility  dated  from 
Montenotte. 

Napoleon  himself  seems  to  incline  to  one  illustri- 
ous connection,  for  he  says  that  the  name  of  Bona- 
parte is  the  same  as  Bonarotti  or  Buenarotti.     Did 

200 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

he,  then,  believe  himself  related  to  Michael  Angelo? 
He  regrets,  too,  that  he  did  not  allow  an  ancestor  of 
his,  Bonaventure  or  Boniface  Bonaparte,  to  be  can- 
onized. The  Capucins,  to  which  order  the  monk  be- 
longed, were  eager  for  the  distinction,  which  would 
have  cost  a  million  francs.  The  Pope,  when  he  came 
to  Paris,  spontaneously  offered  this  compliment, 
which  Napoleon  was  inclined  to  accept,  as  it  would, 
he  thought,  conciliate  the  priesthood.  But  it  was 
finally  decided  that  it  might  afford  matter  for  ridi- 
cule, so  dangerous  anywhere,  so  fatal  in  France. 

Napoleon  seems  to  have  no  family  secrets  from  his 
companions.  His  father  died  at  Montpellier  at  the 
age  of  thirty-five,  he  says  at  one  time,  thirty-nine  at 
another.  He  had  been  a  man  of  pleasure  all  his  life, 
extravagant,  "wishing  to  play  the  great  noble,"  but 
at  the  last  he  could  not  have  enough  monks  and 
priests  round  him,  so  that  at  Montpellier  they  con- 
sidered him  a  saint.  Napoleon's  great -uncle,  to 
some  extent,  restored  the  family  fortunes,  and  died 
wealthy,  so  much  so  that  Pauline  thought  it  worth 
while  to  steal  the  purse  from  under  his  pillow  as  he 
was  dying.  The  Emperor  discusses  quite  calmly  a 
common  report  that  Paoli  was  his  father,  but  gives 
a  conclusive,  but  not  very  refined  or  decorous,  rea- 
son for  disbelieving  it.  Still  Paoli  took  a  semi-pa- 
ternal interest  in  him.  "You,  Bonaparte,  are  all 
Plutarch,  you  have  nothing  modern  about  you,"  the 
general  said  to  him.  And  of  him  to  others :  "  That 
young  man  bears  the  head  of  Caesar  on  the  body  of 
Alexander:  there  is  the  stuff  of  ten  Scyllas  in  him." 
Both  his  father  and  mother  were  very  handsome. 
She,  during  her  pregnancy,  followed  the  army  of 
independence.     The  French  generals  took  pity  on 

201 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

her,  and  allowed  her  to  come  to  her  own  house  for  her 
confinement.  She  availed  herself  of  the  permission, 
and  was  delivered  of  Napoleon.  "  So  that  I  can  say 
I  was  conceived  when  Corsica  was  independent,  and 
bom  when  Corsica  was  French."  This  last  point 
was,  of  course,  capital  for  him  and  for  his  dynasty. 

Here  perhaps  may  be  noted  the  singular  connec- 
tion of  Napoleon  with  Corsica.  He  was  born  there. 
He  lived  there  till  he  was  nine.  With  the  first  free- 
dom of  manhood  he  returns  there.  Of  the  period  be- 
tween January  I,  1786,  and  June,  1793,  he  spends 
more  than  three  years  and  two  months  in  Corsica. 
Then  he  drifts  away,  never  to  see  the  island  again, 
except  for  a  moment  on  his  return  from  Egypt,  and 
in  outline  from  Elba.  Nevertheless,  Corsica  follows 
him  and  profoundly  influences  his  career.  During 
his  early  years  on  the  island  he  had  contracted  a 
life-long  feud,  after  the  Corsican  fashion,  with  Pozzo 
di  Borgo.  That  vendetta  was  fateful,  if  not  mortal. 
For  to  Pozzo  di  Borgo,  more  than  to  any  other  single 
man,  is  due  the  first  overthrow  of  Napoleon. 

After  her  flight  from  Corsica  and  her  arrival  at 
Marseilles,  the  Emperor's  mother  was  once  more,  he 
tells  us,  in  a  desperate  plight.  She  and  her  daugh- 
ters had  not  a  farthing  to  live  upon.  He  himself  was 
reduced  to  an  assignat  of  five  francs,  and  was  on  the 
verge  of  suicide,  being  indeed  on  the  brink  of  the 
Seine  for  that  purpose,  when  a  friend  lent  him  money 
and  saved  him.  His  mother  had  thirteen  children, 
of  whom  he  was  the  third.  C'est  une  mattresse 
femme. 

He  receives  a  letter  from  his  mother,  and,  though 
he  tore  it  up,  is  sufficiently  moved  by  it  to  quote  it 
to   his   companions.     Its   tenderness,  indeed,  might 

202 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

well  affect  a  son;  for  she  wishes,  old  and  blind  as 
she  is,  to  come  to  St.  Helena.  "I  am  very  old," 
she  writes,  "to  make  a  journey  of  three  thousand 
leagues,  I  should  die  perhaps  on  the  way,  but, 
never  mind,  I  should  die  nearer  you."  His  nurse, 
who  long  survived  him,  and  whom  he  remembered 
affectionately  in  his  will,  came  to  Paris  for  the  coro- 
nation, where  the  Pope  took  so  much  notice  of  her 
that  his  mother  was  almost  jealous.  His  foster- 
brother,  her  son,  became  captain  of  a  vessel  in  the 
British  navy. 

Even  of  his  wives  he  is  not  chary  of  talking,  nor 
is  he  sparing  of  the  most  intimate  details  about  both. 
He  wonders  if  he  ever  really  loved  anybody.  If  so, 
it  was  Josephine — a  little.  She  indeed  almost  al- 
ways lied,  but  always  cleverly,  except  with  regard  to 
her  age.  As  to  that  she  got  into  such  a  tangle  that 
her  statements  could  only  be  reconciled  on  the  hy- 
pothesis that  Eugene  was  twelve  years  old  when  he 
was  born.  She  never  asked  anything  for  herself  or 
her  children,  but  made  mountains  of  debt.  Her 
greatest  defect  was  a  vigilant  and  constant  jealousy. 
However,  she  was  not  jealous  of  Marie  Louise,  though 
the  latter  was  extremely  susceptible  as  to  her  prede- 
cessor. When  the  Emperor  tried  to  take  his  second 
wife  to  see  his  first,  the  former  burst  into  tears,  and 
she  endeavored  by  every  possible  ruse  and  device  to 
prevent  his  going  there. 

Marie  Louise,  he  declares,  was  innocence  itself  and 
really  loved  him.  Had  she  not  been  influenced  by 
that  wretch  {canaille)  Mme.  de  Montebello,  and  by 
Corvisart,  who  was  a  scoundrel  {miserable),  she, 
too,  would  have  followed  him  to  Elba.  "  And  then 
her  father  has  placed  that  polisson   Neipperg   by 

203 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

her  side."  This  is  perhaps  the  only  avowal  which 
we  have  from  Napoleon,  who  kept  up  appearances 
gallantly  to  the  last,  that  he  was  aware  of  his  wife's 
infidelity;  though  Lavallette  informed  him  of  it 
during  the  Hundred  Days,  and  his  suite  were  all  gos- 
siping about  the  scandal.  Still  he  always  praises 
Marie  Louise  and  gives,  in  sum,  the  following  ac- 
count of  her.  She  was  never  at  ease  with  the  French, 
remembering  they  had  killed  her  aunt  Marie  An- 
toinette. She  was  always  truthful  and  discreet,  and 
courteous  to  all,  even  those  whom  she  most  detested. 
She  was  cleverer  than  her  father,  whom  alone  of  her 
family  she  loved :  she  could  not  bear  her  stepmother. 
Different  in  this  from  Josephine,  she  was  delighted 
when  she  received  ten  thousand  francs  to  spend. 
One  could  have  trusted  her  with  any  secret,  and  she 
had  been  enjoined  at  Vienna  to  obey  Napoleon  in 
everything.  She  was  a  charming  child,  a  good 
woman,  and  had  saved  his  life.  And  yet,  all  said 
and  done,  he  loved  Josephine  better.  Josephine  was 
a  true  woman,  she  was  his  choice,  they  had  risen 
together.  He  loved  her  person,  her  grace.  "  She 
would  have  followed  me  to  Elba,''  he  says,  with 
oblique  reproach.  Had  she  had  a  child  of  his,  he 
would  never  have  left  her.  It  would  have  been  better 
so  for  her,  and  for  France.  For  it  was  Austria  that 
lost  him.  But  for  the  Austrian  marriage,  he  would 
never  have  made  war  on  Russia.  He  declares  that 
he  has  made  up  his  mind,  should  Marie  Louise  die, 
not  to  marry  again.  Considering  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  was  placed,  and  the  area  of  choice  pre- 
sented to  him  at  St.  Helena,  there  is  something  half 
comic,  half  tragic,  in  the  declaration. 
To  his  little  son  he  makes  one  bitter  allusion, 

204 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

Gourgaud,  on  the  15th  of  August,  the  imperial  fes- 
tival, presents  the  Emperor  with  a  bouquet  as  if  from 
the  King  of  Rome.  "Bah! "  says  Napoleon  rudely, 
"the  King  of  Rome  thinks  no  more  of  me  than  he 
does  of  you."  But  that  his  thoughts  were  always 
with  the  boy  his  will  and,  indeed,  his  conversations 
sufficiently  prove.  It  was  his  intention,  he  says,  to 
have  given  the  Kingdom  of  all  Italy,  with  Rome  as 
the  capital,  to  his  second  son,  had  he  had  one. 

Caroline,  who  married  Murat,  was  considered,  he 
tells  us,  in  childhood  to  be  the  dunce  and  Cinderella 
of  the  family.  But  she  developed  favorably,  and  be- 
came a  capable  and  handsome  woman.  He  cannot, 
however,  disguise  his  fury  with  her  second  marriage. 
He  can  scarcely  believe  it — after  twenty  years  of 
marriage,  within  fifteen  months  of  the  violent  death 
of  her  husband,  with  children  grown  up,  that  she 
should  marry  again,  publicly,  and  where,  of  all 
places? — at  Vienna.  If  the  news  be  true,  it  will  have 
astonished  him  more  than  anything  that  ever  hap- 
pened. Human  nature  is  indeed  strange.  And  then 
explodes  his  inmost  thought:  "Ah I  la  coquine,  la 
coquine,  V amour  la  toujours  conduite." 

We  have  seen  that  he  considered  Louis  XIV.  the 
greatest  of  French  sovereigns,  and  this  news  of  Caro- 
line's marriage  produces  the  strangest  of  analogies 
between  them.  Readers  of  St.  Simon  will  recollect 
the  vivid  description  he  gives  of  the  day  when  Louis 
XIV.  received  the  tidings  that  his  cherished  son,  the 
Due  du  Maine,  had,  on  a  signal  occasion,  behaved 
with  something  less  than  conspicuous  courage. 
How  the  King,  then  at  Marly,  perceives  a  scullion 
pocketing  a  biscuit :  how  his  suppressed  fury  breaks 
out  and  wreaks  itself  on  the  relatively  innocent  ob- 

205 


^NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

ject :  how  he  rushCvS  up  before  the  astonished  court 
and  breaks  his  stick  on  the  servant's  back  :  how  the 
man  flies,  and  the  King  stands  swearing  at  him,  and 
impotently  brandishing  the  stump  of  his  cane.  The 
courtiers  cannot  beheve  their  eyes,  and  the  King  re- 
tires to  conceal  his  agitation.  So,  on  hearing  of 
CaroHne's  nuptials,  Napoleon  sits  down  to  dinner 
bursting  with  uncontrollable  wrath.  He  declares  that 
the  pastry  is  gritty,  and  his  anger,  expending  itself 
on  the  cook,  passes  all  restraint.  Rarely,  says  Gour- 
gaud — never,  says  Montholon — has  the  Emperor  been 
seen  in  such  a  rage.  He  orders  that  the  man  shall 
be  beaten  and  dismissed.  The  scene  is  grotesque 
and  painful  enough,  but  it  is  Caroline,  not  the  cook, 
that  is  the  cause. 

It  was  not,  we  may  surmise,  his  sister's  marriage 
alone  that  provoked  this  explosion.  The  news  had 
probably  brought  back  to  him  that  day,  in  1814,  when 
he  received  the  news  that  Murat  had  betrayed  him 
and  turned  his  arms  against  France.  The  Em- 
peror's feeling  for  Murat  then  was  a  bitter  contempt 
for  the  "barber,"  as  he  called  him,  whom  he  had 
raised  to  be  a  king.  His  anger  he  reserved  for  his 
sister,  who,  as  he  knew,  governed  and  directed  her 
husband.  His  language  about  her,  too,  was  such, 
as  reported  by  Barras  (who  is,  however,  a  question- 
able witness  in  matters  relating  to  Napoleon),  that  a 
French  editor,  by  no  means  squeamish,  is  unable  to 
print  it.  In  any  case,  whether  indelicate  or  not,  we 
may  be  sure  that  it  was  forcible,  and  that  on  this  day 
of  petulance  the  misalliance  of  Caroline  brought  to 
his  mind  a  darker  tragedy  and  a  direr  wrath. 

Of  his  brothers  he  says  little  that  is  worth  record- 
ing, in  view  of  other  and  fuller  revelations  elsewhere. 

206 


CONVERSATIONS   OF  NAPOLEON 

He  declares  compendiously  that  they  have  done  him 
much  harm.  He  made  a  great  mistake,  he  says, 
in  making  Joseph  a  king,  especially  in  Spain,  where 
a  firm  and  military  sovereign  was  required — whereas 
Joseph  thought  of  nothing  but  gallantry  at  Madrid. 
Joseph,  in  his  great  brother's  opinion,  was  not  a  sol- 
dier, though  he  fancied  himself  one,  nor  was  he  even 
brave.  It  may  here  be  mentioned  that  as  Napoleon's 
appearance  deteriorated  at  St.  Helena  it  strikingly 
resembled  that  of  Joseph.  Las  Cases  declares  that 
on  at  least  one  occasion  he  could  have  sworn  that 
it  was  Joseph  and  not  Napoleon  whom  he  saw.  With 
regard  to  Louis  and  Lucien,  their  mania  for  publish- 
ing indifferent  verses,  and  dedicating  them  to  the 
Pope,  is  a  constant  perplexity  to  him.  Of  both  poet- 
asters he  remarks  at  different  times :  "  II  faut  avoir 
le  diahle  au  corps."  Lucien,  says  Napoleon,  wished, 
after  Brumaire,  to  marry  the  Queen  of  Etruria,  and 
threatened  if  this  were  refused  to  marry  a  woman  of 
bad  character — a  menace  which  he  carried  out.  He 
was,  in  his  brother's  judgment,  useless  during  the 
Hundred  Days ;  but  aspired  after  Waterloo  to  the  dic- 
tatorship. He  pointed  out  that  his  relations  to  the 
Republican  party  would  make  him  acceptable  to 
them,  and  that  he  would  give  the  military  command 
to  the  Emperor.  Napoleon,  without  answering  this 
strange  rhapsody,  turned  to  Carnot,  who  declared 
unhesitatingly  that  he  could  speak  on  behalf  of  the 
Republicans,  not  one  of  whom  would  prefer  Lucien's 
dictatorship  to  the  Emperor's.  Eliza,  the  member  of 
his  family  who  most  resembled  him  in  character  and 
talents,  and  whom,  perhaps  for  that  reason,  he  dis- 
liked, he  scarcely  mentions;  nor  does  he  say  much 
of  the  exquisite  and  voluptuous  Pauline.     And  in- 

207 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

deed  from  the  world  at  large  the  family  has  scarcely 
received  sufficient  attention.  For  it  was  an  aston- 
ishing race.  Born  and  reared  in  poverty  and  ob- 
scurity, it  assumed  a  divine  right  with  easy  grace. 
No  Bourbons  or  Hapsburgs  were  so  imbued  with 
their  royal  prerogatives  as  these  princes  of  an  hour. 
Joseph  believed  firmly  that  he  would  easily  have 
established  himself  as  King  of  Spain  if  Napoleon 
would  only  have  withdrawn  his  troops.  Louis  had 
the  same  conviction  with  regard  to  Holland.  Mu- 
rat  and  Caroline  were  not  less  fatuous  at  Naples. 
Jerdme  promptly  established  the  state  and  etiquette 
of  a  petty  Louis  XIV.  Not  less  remarkable  was 
their  tenacity  of  character.  An  unfriendly  com- 
mentator is  forced  to  admit  that  their  qualities  or 
defects  were  all  out  of  the  common.  The  women 
even  approached  greatness,  Caroline  and  Eliza 
had  striking  qualities.  And  all,  brothers  and  sisters, 
had  something  of  the  inflexibility  of  their  mighty 
head,  and  the  fullest  possible  measure  of  his  self- 
confidence.  They  frequently  defied  him.  Some 
did  not  scruple  to  abandon  him.  The  two  governing 
sisters  tried  to  cut  themselves  adrift  from  his  fortunes, 
and  make  terms  as  independent  sovereigns  with  the 
enemy.  Lucien  believed  that  he  could  more  than 
fill  the  place  of  Napoleon.  In  this  astounding  race, 
says  Pasquier,  the  most  binding  engagements  and 
the  most  sacred  affections  melted  away  at  the  first 
aspect  of  a  political  combination. 

His  confidences  do  not  end  with  his  family,  for  he 
likes  to  talk  of  his  loves.  He  has  had,  as  he  counts 
on  his  fingers,  seven  mistresses  in  his  life:  C'est 
beaucoup.  But,  after  all,  it  is  not  much  when  we 
remember  that  a  learned  and  competent  historian 

208 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

is  devoting  three  thick  volumes  to  this  side  of  Na- 
poleon's character.  Of  the  most  famous,  Mme. 
Walewska,  to  whom  at  one  time  he  seems  to  have 
been  sincerely  attached  (though  he  thought  all  Po- 
lish women  addicted  to  intrigue),  he  speaks  with 
great  detachment.  She  was  obtained  for  him,  he 
declares,  by  Talleyrand.  He  avers  to  Gourgaud, 
when  vexed  with  the  general,  that  when  they  started 
for  St.  Helena  he  would  have  given  her  to  Gourgaud 
as  a  wife,  but  not  now,  such  was  the  change  of  his 
sentiments.  He  hears  with  complacency  that  she 
has  married  M.  d'Ornano.  "She  is  rich  and  must 
have  saved,  and  I  settled  a  great  deal  on  the  two  chil- 
dren." "Your  Majesty,"  says  the  tactless  equer- 
ry, "paid  Mme.  Walewska  ten  thousand  francs  a 
month."  The  Emperor  blushes,  and  asks  him  how 
he  knows  this.  "Lord!"  says  Gourgaud,  "as  if  I 
were  not  too  close  to  Your  Majesty  not  to  know  that 
sort  of  thing:  your  household  knew  everything." 
On  another  occasion  Napoleon  declares  that  one  of 
his  main  grievances  against  Murat  was  that  King 
Joachim  had  sequestrated,  in  1814,  the  Neapolitan 
estates  of  Mme.  Walewska. 

He  speaks  with  candor  of  his  relations  with  Mile. 
Georges  and  Mme.  Grassini,  with  Mme.  DuchMel, 
Mme.  Galliano,  and  a  Mme.  Pellaprat.  Of  another 
lady,  whose  name  Gourgaud  does  not  record,  but 
who  is  sufficiently  described  to  be  recognized  as 
Mme.  Foures,  he  says,  "She  was  seventeen,  and  I 
was  commander-in-chief!"  He  was  supposed  when 
Emperor  to  disdain  female  society:  he  admits  the 
fact  and  explains  it.  He  declares  that  he  was  nat- 
urally susceptible,  and  feared  to  be  dominated  by 
women.  Consequently  he  had  avoided  them,  but 
O  209 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

in  this,  he  confesses,  he  made  a  great  blunder. 
Were  he  again  on  the  throne  he  should  make  a 
point  of  spending  two  hours  a  day  in  conversation 
with  ladies,  from  whom  he  should  learn  much. 
He  had  endeavored  during  the  Hundred  Days,  in- 
deed, to  repair  the  fault  of  his  former  indifference. 
But  whatever  he  may  have  been  in  France,  he  is 
diffuse  on  this  topic  at  St.  Helena.  When  he  finds 
himself  engaged  in  a  gloomy  retrospect,  he  turns 
the  conversation  by  saying,  "Let  us  talk  about 
women,"  and  then,  like  a  good  Frenchman,  he  dis- 
cusses the  subject  with  a  zest  worthy  of  Henry  the 
Fourth.  During  one  dinner,  for  example,  the  con- 
versation turns  entirely  on  the  question  whether  fat 
women  are  more  admirable  than  thin.  He  discourses 
on  his  preference  for  fair  women  over  dark.  Time 
has  to  be  killed. 

Naturally,  he  likes  most  to  talk  of  his  battles — of 
which  he  counts  no  less  than  sixty — and  speaks  of 
them  with  simple  candor.  "War,"  he  says,  "is  a 
strange  art.  I  have  fought  sixty  battles,  and  I  as- 
sure you  that  I  have  learned  nothing  from  all  of 
them  that  I  did  not  know  in  the  first.  Look  at  Caesar ; 
he  fights  in  the  first  battle  as  in  the  last." 

He  takes  full  responsibility  for  the  Russian  cam- 
paign. "I  was  master;  all  blame  rests  on  me" 
(though  he  cannot  bring  himself  to  make  the  same 
admission  with  regard  to  Waterloo).  When  he  knew 
at  Dresden  that  he  would  not  have  the  support  of 
Sweden  or  Turkey,  he  should  not  have  proceeded 
with  the  expedition.  But  even  then,  had  he  not  re- 
mained in  Moscow,  he  would  have  been  successful. 
That  was  his  great  fault.  "I  ought  to  have  only 
remained  there  a  fortnight.     After  arriving  there  I 

210 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

should  have  crushed  what  remained  of  Kutusow's 
army,  marched  on  Malo -Jaroslavetz,  Toula,  and 
Kaluga,  proposing  to  the  Russians  to  retire  without 
destroying  anything." 

He  constantly  repeats  that  his  marriage  with 
Marie  Louise  was  the  cause  of  the  war  with  Russia, 
for  it  made  him  feel  sure  of  the  support  of  Austria. 
Prussia,  too,  was,  as  usual,  he  says,  pining  for  ag- 
grandizement, and  so  he  reckoned  with  confidence 
on  these  two  powers,  though  he  had  no  other  allies. 
But  **  I  was  in  too  great  a  hurry.  I  should  have  re- 
mained a  year  on  the  Niemen  and  in  Prussia,  and 
then  devoured  Prussia."  It  is  strange,  indeed,  to  ob- 
serve how  heartily,  as  if  by  a  foreboding,  he  hates 
Prussia.  He  bitterly  regrets  that  at  Tilsit  he  did 
not  dispose  of  the  King  and  proclaim  that  the  house 
of  HohenzoUern  had  ceased  to  reign.  He  is  confi- 
dent that  Alexander  would  not  have  opposed  such  a 
course,  provided  Napoleon  did  not  himself  annex  the 
kingdom.  A  petty  HohenzoUern  prince  on  his  staff 
had,  he  tells  us,  asked  for  the  Prussian  throne,  and 
Napoleon  would  have  been  disposed  to  give  it  him 
had  he  been  descended  from  the  great  Frederick  (who, 
by-the-bye,  was  childless).  But  his  family  was  a 
branch  which  had  separated  three  centuries  ago 
from  the  royal  stock.  And  then,  says  the  Emperor, 
with  less  verisimilitude,  I  was  overpersuaded  by  the 
King  of  Prussia. 

He  made,  he  admits,  a  fatal  mistake  in  not  send- 
ing Ferdinand  back  to  Spain  after  the  Russian  cam- 
paign, for  that  would  have  restored  to  him  one  hun- 
dred and  eighty  thousand  good  soldiers.  The  Span- 
ish blunder  began,  he  confesses,  from  his  having 
said  to  himself,  on  watching  the  quarrels  of  the 

211 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

Spanish  Bourbons:  "Let  us  get  rid  of  them,  and 
there  will  be  no  more  Bourbons  lef  t. "  He  apparently 
counted  the  Sicilian  Bourbons  for  nothing. 

Still  it  is  to  Austria,  in  his  judgment,  that  he  owes 
his  fall.  Without  Essling  he  would  have  destroyed 
the  Austrian  monarchy,  but  Essling  cost  him  too 
dear  Austria  is,  he  thinks,  the  real  enemy  of  France, 
and  he  regrets  having  spared  her.  At  one  moment 
he  had  thoughts  of  causing  a  revolution  there;  at 
another,  of  carving  her  into  three  kingdoms — Aus- 
tria, Hungary,  and  Bohemia. 

What,  does  he  think,  was  his  most  brilliant  vic- 
tory? Austerlitz?  Perhaps,  he  answers.  But  he 
has  a  leaning  for  Borodino;  it  was  superb;  it  was 
fought  so  far  from  home.  At  Austerlitz  was  the 
best  army,  and  at  Wagram  the  largest  army,  that  he 
had  ever  commanded  in  battle.  After  Austerlitz  the 
quality  of  his  army  declined.  He  recurs  with  con- 
stant pride  to  the  strategy  of  Eckmiihl :  "  that  superb 
manoeuvre,  the  finest  that  I  ever  executed,"  where, 
with  fifty  thousand  men,  he  defeated  a  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand.  Had  he  slept  the  previous  night, 
he  could  never  have  won  that  victory.  As  it  was,  he 
had  to  kick  Lannes  awake.  A  commander-in-chief 
should  never  sleep;  it  is  then  that  he  should  work. 
That  is  why  he  used  a  carriage  to  avoid  unnecessary 
fatigue  in  the  day-time.  Joseph  lost  the  battle  of 
Vittoria  by  his  somnolence. 

A  great  general,  he  says,  is  rarely  found.  Of  all 
the  generals  produced  by  the  Revolution,  Desaix 
and  Hoche  are  the  only  ones,  he  thinks,  who  had  the 
makings  of  one.  The  campaign  of  Dumouriez  in 
Champagne  was  extremely  fine  and  bold:  he  was 
the  only  man  produced  out  of  the  nobility.     Kleber, 

212 


CONVERSATIONS   OF   NAPOLEON 

says  Napoleon,  oddly  enough,  had  the  qualities  and 
defects  of  a  tall  man.  Turenne  is  the  greatest  of 
French  generals;  he  is  the  only  one  who  became 
bolder  with  old  age.  "  He  does  exactly  what  I  should 
have  done  in  his  place.  .  .  .  Had  he  come  to  me  at 
Wagram,  he  would  at  once  have  understood  the 
position.  So  would  Conde,  but  not  Csesar  or  Han- 
nibal. Had  I  had  a  man  like  Turenne  to  second  me 
in  my  campaigns,  I  should  have  been  master  of  the 
world ;  but  I  had  nobody.  When  I  was  absent  my 
lieutenants  were  always  beaten.  .  .  .  Conde  was 
a  general  by  intuition,  Turenne  by  experience.  I 
think  much  more  highly  of  Turenne  than  of  Fred- 
erick. In  the  place  of  that  sovereign  he  would  have 
done  much  more,  and  would  not  have  committed 
Frederick's  mistakes.  Frederick,  indeed,  did  not 
thoroughly  understand  artillery." 

"  I  count  myself  for  half  in  the  battles  I  have  won, 
and  it  is  much  even  to  name  the  general  in  connection 
with  a  victory,  for  it  is,  after  all,  the  army  that  wins 
it."  And  yet  he  sets  great  store  by  officers.  "A 
perfect  army,"  he  says,  on  another  occasion,  "would 
be  that  in  which  each  officer  knew  what  to  do  accord- 
ing to  circumstances;  the  best  army  is  that  which 
is  nearest  to  this." 

In  his  judgment  of  hostile  generals,  when  in  ac- 
tive life,  he  had  been  politic.  A  trustworthy  as- 
sociate of  his  in  those  days  records  that  Napoleon 
often  said  that  Alvinzy  was  the  best  general  that 
he  had  ever  had  opposed  to  him  in  Italy,  and  for  that 
reason  he  had  never  mentioned  Alvinzy  in  his  bul- 
letins, whereas  he  constantly  commended  Beaulieu, 
Wiirmser,  or  the  Archduke  Charles,  whom  he  did 
not  fear.    It  seems  probable  that  he  afterwards  en- 

213 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

tertained  a  higher  opinion  of  the  archduke.  He 
dechned,  as  we  have  seen,  to  confide  his  opinion 
of  Welhngton  to  Warden,  and  at  St.  Helena  he  could 
not  be  fair  to  the  duke.  But,  when  on  the  throne, 
he  had  coupled  Wellington's  name  with  his  own  in  a 
strange  connection.  It  was  because  Wellington  had 
devastated  the  country  in  his  retreat  on  Lisbon. 
"Only  Wellington  and  I  are  capable  of  executing 
such  measures."  And  he  adds,  with  perversity,  that 
he  regards  the  ravaging  of  the  Palatinate  as  the 
greatest  act  of  Louvois. 

He  regretted  Elba.  "  This  day  year  I  was  at  El- 
ba," he  says,  gloomily.  Had  the  stipulated  income 
been  paid,  he  would  have  kept  open  house  for  the 
learned  men  of  Europe,  for  whom  he  would  have 
formed  a  centre.  He  would  have  built  a  palace 
for  them,  and  led  a  country-house  life  surrounded 
by  men  of  mark.  He  would,  too,  have  enriched  the 
island  by  throwing  open  its  little  ports.  Lucien, 
w^ho  seems  not  to  have  thoroughly  understood  his 
brother,  wished  to  have  the  minerals  of  the  island 
for  nothing. 

But  Bertrand  confided  to  Gourgaud  that  St.  He- 
lena was  better  than  Elba;  that,  at  any  rate,  they 
were  more  unhappy  at  Elba.  It  was  terrible  to  leave 
the  most  splendid  throne  in  the  world  for  a  tiny  island 
where  one  was  not  even  sure  of  a  good  reception; 
and  for  four  months  they  were  deeply  depressed. 
Here  the  greatness  of  the  fall  was  less  sensible ;  they 
had  become  accustomed  to  it.  Napoleon  on  this 
point  declared  conflicting  opinions.  Sometimes  he 
regrets  Elba:  often  he  abuses  St.  Helena,  but  on 
one  occasion  he  launches  into  praise  of  it,  at  any 
r^te  as  a  residence  for  his  suite.     "  We  are  very  happy 

214 


CONVERSATIONS  OF  NAPOLEON 

here ;  we  can  ride,  we  have  a  good  table,  we  can  go 
away  whenever  we  Uke,  we  are  well  received  every- 
where, and  covered  with  glory,"  records  the  unhappy 
Gourgaud,  at  whom  this  discourse  was  aimed. 

In  speaking  of  Elba,  the  Emperor  gives  one  cu- 
rious detail.  When  he  left  Fontainebleau,  in  1814, 
he  had  little  hope  of  returning.  The  first  hope  that 
he  conceived  arose  from  his  perceiving  that  no  of- 
ficers' wives  were  invited  to  the  banquets  at  the 
Hotel  de  ViUe. 

One  of  his  favorite  topics,  in  treating  which  he  re- 
veals the  practical  character  of  his  mind,  is  that  of 
private  budgets.  He  is  always  discussing  them.  At 
one  time  it  s  the  budget  of  a  man  of  two  hundred 
thousand  francs  a  year.  The  imaginary  person  is 
French,  of  course;  for  a  Dutchman,  he  declares,  in 
a  tone  of  approbation,  would  with  such  an  income 
only  spend  thirty  thousand  francs  a  year.  Another 
time  he  reckons  up  the  expenditure  of  a  man  with 
five  hundred  thousand  francs  a  year.  This  is  the 
fortune  he  would  himself  prefer ;  to  live  in  the  country 
with  five  hundred  thousand  or  six  hundred  thousand 
francs  a  year,  and  with  a  little  house  in  Paris  like 
the  one  that  he  had  in  the  Rue  Chantereine.  But 
he  could  live  very  comfortably  on  twelve  francs  a  day. 
He  would  dine  for  thirty  sous;  he  would  frequent 
reading-rooms  and  libraries,  and  go  to  the  play  in  the 
pit.  His  room  would  cost  him  a  louis  a  month.  But 
suddenly  he  remembers  that  he  must  have  a  servant, 
for  he  can  no  longer  dress  himself,  and  so  he  raises 
his  figure  and  says  that  one  could  be  very  happy 
with  twenty  francs  a  day — it  is  only  a  question  of 
limiting  one's  wants.  He  would  amuse  himself 
greatly,  living  only  with  people  of  a  similar  fortune. 

215 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

The  most  comical  result  of  this  habit,  or  game  of  cal- 
culation, appears  when  he  re-reads  Clarissa  Harlowe. 
He  cannot  wade  through  it,  though  he  devoured  it  at 
eighteen,  arid  so  forth.  But  what  really  perplexes 
him  is  the  personal  expenditure  of  Lovelace.  "He 
has  only  two  thousand  a  year :  I  made  out  his  budget 
at  once." 

In  the  same  practical  spirit  of  detail,  when  waiting 
for  a  moment  in  Montholon's  sitting-room,  he  hastily 
values  the  furniture  piece  by  piece,  and  appraises  it 
at  thirty  napoleons  at  most. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  SUPREME  REGRETS 

He  seems  to  concentrate  the  main  regrets  of  his 
soHtude  on  three  capital  points:  that  he  could  not 
have  died  at  some  supreme  moment  of  his  career; 
that  he  left  Egypt  and  gave  up  his  Eastern  ambi- 
tions; and,  of  course,  Waterloo.  As  to  the  first,  he 
discusses  the  right  moment  with  his  suite.  "For 
the  sake  of  history,  I  should  have  died  at  Moscow, 
Dresden,  or  Waterloo. "  Again :  "  I  should  have  died 
after  my  entry  into  Moscow ; "  or  "  I  should  have  died 
at  La  Moskowa."  Gourgaud  thinks  either  Moscow 
or  Waterloo,  and  only  leans  to  the  latter  date  as  in- 
cluding the  return  from  Elba.  Las  Cases  protests 
against  Moscow,  as  omitting  so  much. 

On  another  occasion  Napoleon  again  leans  to  Mos- 
cow. Had  a  cannon-ball  from  the  Kremlin  killed 
him,  his  greatness  would  have  endured,  because  his 
institutions  and  his  dynasty  would,  he  declares,  have 
survived  in  France.  As  it  is,  he  will  be  almost  noth- 
ing to  posterity,  unless  his  son  should  come  to  mount 
the  throne.  "Had  I  died  at  Moscow,"  he  says  on 
another  occasion,  "I  should  have  left  behind  me  a 
reputation  as  a  conqueror  without  a  parallel  in  his- 
tory.    A  ball  ought  to  have  put  an  end  to  me  there." 

Again:  "To  die  at  Borodino  would  have  been  to 
die  like  Alexander;  to  be  killed  at  Waterloo  woul(i 

^17 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

have  been  a  good  death;  perhaps  Dresden  would 
have  been  better ;  but,  no,  better  at  Waterloo.  The 
love  of  the  people,  their  regret." 

The  greatest  moment  in  his  life,  he  thinks,  was  his 
stay  at  Dresden  in  1812,  when  every  sovereign  in 
Europe,  except  the  Sultan,  the  Russian  Emperor,  and 
the  King  of  Great  Britain,  was  at  his  feet.  What  was 
his  happiest?  To  O'Meara  he  says  the  march  from 
Cannes  to  Paris.  But  on  another  occasion  he  asks 
his  suite  to  guess.  Gourgaud  guesses  the  occasion 
of  his  (second)  marriage.  Mme.  Montholon  thinks 
his  nomination  as  First  Consul.  Bertrand,  the  birth 
of  the  King  of  Rome.  Napoleon  answers:  "Yes, 
I  was  happy  as  First  Consul,  at  the  marriage,  at 
the  birth  of  the  King  of  Rome,  mais  alors  je  n'etais 
pas  assez  d' aplomb.  Perhaps  it  was  at  Tilsit:  I 
had  gone  through  vicissitudes  and  anxieties,  at 
Eylau  among  others,  and  I  had  come  out  victorious, 
with  emperors  and  kings  paying  court  to  me.  Per- 
haps I  was  happiest  after  my  victories  in  Italy :  what 
enthusiasm,  what  cries  of  'Long  live  the  Liberator 
of  Italy ' — and  all  at  twenty-five.  From  that  time  I 
saw  what  I  might  become.  I  already  saw  the  world 
beneath  me,  as  if  I  were  being  carried  through  the 
air." 

Then  he  is  sorry  that  he  ever  left  Egypt.  He  re- 
grets the  career  that  Asia  offered  to  him;  he  would 
rather  have  been  Emperor  of  the  East  than  Emperor 
of  the  West,  for  in  the  former  case  he  would  have 
been  still  on  the  throne.  His  later  dreams,  as  well 
as  his  earlier,  turn  to  the  Orient.  At  the  first  glimpse 
of  St.  Helena  from  the  ship  he  saj^s,  criticising  the 
aspect  of  the  place,  that  he  should  have  done  better 
to  renjain  in  Egypt,  for  he  would  now  be  Emperor  of 

218 


THE   SUPREME   REGRETS 

the  entire  East.  That  empire,  he  declares,  would 
have  suited  him;  for  the  desert  had  alwa3^s  had  a 
particular  attraction  for  him,  and  his  own  name  Na- 
poleon means,  he  says,  "lion  of  the  desert."  "Ara- 
bia awaits  a  man.  With  the  French  in  reserve,  and 
the  Arabs  as  auxiliaries,  I  should  have  seized  Judea ; 
I  should  have  been  master  of  the  East."  "Had  I 
taken  Acre,  I  should  have  gone  to  India.  I  should 
have  assumed  the  turban  at  Aleppo,  and  have  headed 
an  army  of  two  hundred  thousand  men.  The  East," 
he  goes  on  repeating,  "only  awaits  a  man."  "Had 
I,"  he  says  another  time,  "been  able  to  make  allies 
of  the  Mamelukes,  I  should  have  been  master  of  the 
East.     Arabia  awaits  a  man. " 

It  was  not,  however,  because  of  Arabia  or  Judea 
that  Napoleon  regretted  Egypt.  He  reveals  his  se- 
cret aim  in  a  laconic  sentence.  "  France,  mistress  of 
Egypt,  would  be  mistress  of  India."  And  again: 
"  The  master  of  Egypt  is  the  master  of  India."  And 
again:  "Egypt  once  in  possession  of  the  French, 
farewell  India  to  the  British.  This  was  one  of  the 
grand  projects  I  aimed  at."  He  would  have  con- 
structed two  canals — one  from  the  Red  Sea  to  the 
Nile  at  Cairo,  the  other  from  the  Red  Sea  to  the  Med- 
iterranean. He  would  have  extended  the  dominion 
of  Egypt  to  the  south,  and  would  have  enlisted  the 
blacks  of  Sennaar  and  Darf  ur.  With  sixty  or  seven- 
ty thousand  of  these,  and  thirty  thousand  picked 
Frenchmen,  he  would  have  marched  in  three  col- 
umns on  the  Euphrates,  and,  after  making  a  long 
halt  there,  would  have  proceeded  to  conquer  India. 
On  arriving  in  India,  he  would  have  allied  himself 
with  the  Mahrattas,  and  had  hopes,  apparently,  of 
seducing  the  sepoy  troops.     The  British,  he  declares, 

219 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST  PHASE 

were  much  afraid  of  this  scheme  of  his.  "  Gorgotto, 
I  have  been  reading  three  volumes  on  India.  What 
rascals  the  English  are!  If  I  had  been  able  to  get 
to  India  from  Egypt  with  the  nucleus  of  an  army,  I 
should  have  driven  them  from  India.  The  East  only 
wants  a  man.  The  master  of  Egypt  is  the  master  of 
India.  But  now  we  shall  see  what  will  come  to  them 
from  Russia.  The  Russians,  already  in  Persia,  have 
not  far  to  go  to  reach  India."  And  then  he  repeats 
his  constant  preoccupation.  "Russia  is  the  power 
that  marches  the  most  surely,  and  with  the  greatest 
strides,  towards  universal  dominion,  ...  for  now 
there  is  no  France  and,  therefore,  no  equilibrium." 

He  had  been,  in  effect.  Emperor  of  the  West,  and 
Montholon  tells  Gourgaud  that,  from  his  instructions 
as  ambassador,  he  inferred  that  Napoleon  meant  to 
be  crowned  by  that  title.  The  Confederation  of  the 
Rhine  was  being  influenced  in  this  direction,  and  at 
Erfurt,  it  is  said,  the  matter  would  have  been  settled, 
had  not  Alexander  demanded  Constantinople  as  a 
counterbalance.  At  St.  Helena,  however,  his  re- 
grets are  not  for  that  position,  but  for  the  empire  of 
the  East.  And  the  reason  is  twofold:  as  ruler  of 
the  East  he  would  have  struck  a  great  blow  at  the 
British,  and  would  have  emulated  Alexander  the 
Great.  For  here  let  us  note  that  his  real  hero  and 
model  is  Alexander.  It  is  not  merely  his  campaigns 
that  Napoleon  admires,  for  these  one  cannot,  he  says, 
well  conceive,  but  his  statesmanship.  In  his  thirty- 
fourth  year  he  leaves  an  immense  and  well-estab- 
lished empire.  He  had,  too,  the  art  of  making  friends 
of  the  peoples  that  he  conquered.  It  was  a  great  act 
of  policy  to  go  to  the  temple  of  Ammon,  for  it  was 
thus  that  he  conquered  Egypt.     "So  I,  had  I  re- 

220 


THE   SUPREME   REGRETS 

mained  in  Egypt,  should  probably  have  founded  an 
empire  like  Alexander,  by  going  on  a  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca."  Even  as  he  leaves  France  in  the  Bellero- 
phon  he  says  to  Captain  Maitland :  "  Had  it  not  been 
for  you  English  I  should  have  been  Emperor  of  the 
East;  but  wherever  there  is  water  to  float  a  ship,  we 
are  sure  to  find  you  in  our  way." 

Nor  did  his  admiration  for  Alexander  the  Great, 
his  passion  for  the  East,  his  aims  on  India,  ever  for- 
sake him,  until  he  had  lost  his  empire  on  the  plains 
of  Russia  and  Germany.  Not  long  before  he  passed 
the  Niemen,  in  the  midst  of  a  conversation  with  Nar- 
bonne,  he  broke  off,  with  a  sudden  flash  in  his  eyes : 
"After  all,"  he  exclaimed,  as  if  under  the  inspiration 
of  a  vision,  "  this  long  journey  is  the  way  to  India. 
Alexander  had  to  make  as  long  a  march  as  that 
from  Moscow  to  India  in  order  to  gain  the  Ganges. 
I  have  always  said  so  to  myself  since  the  siege  of 
Acre.  Without  the  English  filibuster  and  the  French 
emigrant  who  directed  the  Turkish  artillery,  and 
who,  with  the  plague,  made  me  raise  the  siege,  I 
would  have  conquered  half  Asia,  and  come  back 
upon  Europe  to  seek  the  thrones  of  France  and  Italy. 
I  must  now  do  just  the  reverse,  and  from  the  extrem- 
ity of  Europe  invade  Asia  in  order  to  attack  Eng- 
land. You  are  aware  of  the  missions  of  Gardanne 
and  Jaubert  to  Persia;  there  has  been  no  outward 
result ;  but  I  have  all  the  maps  and  statistics  of  pop- 
ulation for  a  march  from  Erivan  and  Tiflis  to  India. 
That  would  be  a  campaign  less  formidable,  perhaps, 
than  that  which  awaits  us  in  the  next  three  months, 
.  .  .  Suppose  Moscow  taken,  Russia  crushed,  the 
Czar  reconciled  or  assassinated  in  some  palace  plot, 
succeeded,  perhaps,  by  a  new  and  dependent  dynasty. 

221 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

Would  it  not  then  be  possible  for  a  great  French  army, 
with  auxiliaries  from  Tiflis,  to  attain  the  Ganges? 
Once  touched  by  a  French  sword,  the  scaffolding  of 
mercantile  power  in  India  would  fall  to  the  ground. 
It  would  be  a  gigantic  expedition,  I  admit,  but  prac- 
ticable in  this  nineteenth  century/'  Who  will  main- 
tain, who  reads  this,  that  absolute  power  had  not  had 
its  usual  effect,  and  that  Napoleon  had  preserved, 
in  1812,  the  balance  and  sanity  of  his  judgment? 

The  third  great  subject  of  regret  is,  of  course,  Wa- 
terloo, over  which  we  sometimes  seem  to  hear  him 
gnash  his  teeth.  "Ah!  if  it  were  to  begin  again!" 
he  exclaims.  He  cannot  understand  how  he  lost  it. 
Perhaps  the  rain  of  the  17th?  Had  he  had  Suchet 
at  the  head  of  Grouchy's  army,  had  he  had  Andre- 
ossi  in  Soult's  place,  could  Bessi^res  or  Lannes  have 
commanded  the  Guard,  had  he  given  the  command 
of  the  Guard  to  Lobau,  had  Murat  headed  the  caval- 
ry, had  Clausel  or  Lamarque  been  at  the  War  Office, 
all  might  have  been  different.  Should  he  have  waited 
a  fortnight  longer?  He  would  then  have  had  the 
twelve  thousand  men  employed  in  La  Vendee.  But 
who  could  tell  that  La  Vendee  would  be  so  soon  paci- 
fied? Should  he  have  attacked  at  all?  Should  he 
not  have  concentrated  all  his  troops  under  Paris,  and 
awaited  events?  Perhaps  then  the  allies  would  not 
have  attacked  him.  It  is  noteworthy,  he  says,  that 
all  their  proclamations  are  dated  after  Waterloo.  He 
should  not,  he  thinks,  have  employed  Ney  or  Van- 
damme.  More  than  once  he  says  he  lost  it  because 
of  the  fault  of  an  officer  who  gave  Guyot  the  order  to 
charge  with  the  Horse  Grenadiers,  for  had  they  been 
kept  in  reserve  they  would  have  retrieved  the  day;  but 
Montholon  declares  that  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  Em- 

222 


THE   SUPREME   REGRETS 

peror  gave  the  order  himself.  He  had  not  been  able 
to  see  the  battle  well.  But  the  men  of  1815  were  not 
the  men  of  1792;  the  generals  had  become  timid. 
He  is  too  apt,  indeed,  to  blame  his  generals,  such  as 
Ney  and  Vandamme,  Gourgaud  begs  him  to  be 
more  lenient ;  he  replies,  "  One  must  speak  the  truth. " 
He  goes  so  far  as  to  declare  that  the  whole  glory  of 
the  victory  belongs  to  the  Prince  of  Orange.  Without 
him  the  British  army  w^ould  have  been  annihilated, 
and  Blucher  hurled  back  beyond  the  Rhine.  This  is 
a  good  instance  of  his  occasional  petulance.  He  ex- 
hausts himself  in  reasons  for  his  defeat,  but  begins 
at  last  to  perceive  that  some  part  of  the  result  may 
have  been  due  to  the  character  of  the  enemy.  "  The 
English  won  by  the  excellence  of  their  discipline," 
he  admits;  then  wanders  on  to  other  reasons.  But 
this  may  be  taken  to  be  his  summing  up :  "  It  was  a 
fatality,  for,  in  spite  of  all,  I  should  have  won  that 
battle.  .  .  .  Poor  France,  to  be  beaten  by  those 
scoundrels !  But  'tis  true  there  had  already  been 
Cressy  and  Agincourt."  A  thought  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  had  long  been  present  to  his  mind. 

Then,  w^hat  should  he  have  done  after  Waterloo? 
There  is  only  one  point  on  which  he  is  always  clear 
and  constant — that  he  should  have  had  Fouch6 
hanged  or  shot  at  once.  He  had  the  military  com- 
mission all  ready  to  try  him;  it  was  that  which  had 
tried  the  Due  d'Enghien,  men  who  ran  the  danger  of 
being  hanged  themselves.  But  beyond  that  it  is  all 
darkness.  Sometimes  he  thinks  he  should  have  shot 
Soult,  but  when,  or  why,  does  not  clearly  appear.  He 
would,  he  says  at  other  times,  have  beheaded  Lafay- 
ette, Lajuinais,  and  a  dozen,  sometimes  even  a  hun- 
dred, others.     Gourgaud  and  he  often  discuss  this 

223 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

interesting  point.  On  one  occasion  Napoleon  alludes 
to  the  plan  of  convoking  at  the  Tuileries  the  council 
of  state,  the  six  thousand  men  of  the  Imperial 
Guard  in  Paris,  the  faithful  part  of  the  National 
Guard,  and  the  jMeres,  haranguing  them,  and 
marching  on  the  Chambers^  which  he  would  have 
adjourned  or  dissolved.  He  thinks  he  could  thus 
have  gained  a  respite  of  a  fortnight,  in  which  he 
would  have  fortified  the  right  bank  of  the  Seine  and 
collected  one  hundred  thousand  men.  Gourgaud 
gloomily  replies  that  in  the  state  of  public  opinion 
this  would  not  have  been  practicable,  and  hints 
at  a  "Decius,"  who  with  a  pistol  shot  would  have 
killed  the  Emperor.  Las  Cases  also  felt  that  this 
course  would  have  been  futile,  and  have  damned 
the  Emperor  in  history.  Gourgaud's  own  plan  was 
different.  He  thinks  that  the  Emperor  should  have 
gone  straight  from  Waterloo  to  the  Chambers,  ex- 
horted them  to  union,  and  made  them  feel  that  all  de- 
pended on  it.  In  reply.  Napoleon  thinks  aloud.  He 
had  been  three  days  without  eating,  and  he  was  worn 
out.  Had  he  gone  to  the  Chambers,  it  would  have 
.been  no  use  simply  to  harangue;  he  must  have  gone 
like  a  Cromwell,  and  thrown  a  certain  number  of 
deputies  into  the  river.  By  this  he  means,  as  he  ex- 
plains more  in  detail,  that  he  would  have  demanded 
the  purification  of  the  Chamber,  and  have  hanged 
seven  or  eight  deputies,  with  Fouche,  of  course,  at 
their  head.  But  to  do  this  he  must  have  thrown  him- 
self into  the  arms  of  the  Jacobins :  it  would  have  been 
anarchy.  Putting  that  on  one  side,  he  doubted  of 
success;  he  would  have  disappeared  in  bloodshed 
and  abhorrence.  Another  time  he  says,  frankly,  he 
had  not  the  courage  to  do  it.     Could  one  at  such  a 

224 


THE   SUPREME   REGRETS 

moment  revolutionize  the  populace  and  raise  the  guil- 
lotine? In  1793  it  was  the  only  way,  but  not  then. 
And,  indeed,  he  would  not  have  succeeded,  for  he  had 
too  many  enemies — it  would  have  been  a  horrible  risk, 
much  blood,  and  little  result.  He  preferred,  there- 
fore, to  abdicate  in  favor  of  his  son,  and  make  it  clear 
to  the  nation  that  the  allies  were  the  enemies,  not  of 
himself  alone,  but  of  France.  So  he  said  to  the 
Chambers :  "  Well,  gentlemen,  you  think  me  an  ob- 
stacle to  peace?  Very  well,  then,  get  out  of  the 
scrape  without  me." 

Gougaud  is  not  satisfied;  he  presses  the  Emperor, 
and  says  that  his  mere  presence  would  have  electri- 
fied the  deputies,  and  so  forth. 

Napoleon  replies,  with  a  sepulchral  truth,  "  Ah ! 
mon  cher,  j'^tais  battu."  "  As  long  as  I  was  feared," 
he  continues,  "  great  was  the  awe  I  inspired ;  but  not 
having  the  rights  of  legitimate  sovereignty,  when  I 
had  to  ask  for  help,  when,  in  short,  I  was  defeated, 
I  had  nothing  to  hope.  No.  I  only  reproach  myself 
for  not  having  put  an  end  to  Fouch^  and  he  but 
just  escaped."  Then  he  returns  again.  '.'Yes,  I 
ought  to  have  gone  to  the  Chambers,  but  I  was  tired 
out,  and  I  could  not  anticipate  that  they  would  turn 
against  me  so  quickly,  for  I  arrived  at  eight  o'clock, 
and  at  noon  they  were  in  insurrection ;  they  took  me 
by  surprise."  He  passes  his  hand  over  his  face,  and 
continues  in  a  hollow  voice :  "  After  all,  I  am  only  a 
man.  But  I  ought  to  have  put  myself  at  the  head  of 
the  army,  which  was  in  favor  of  my  son,  and,  what- 
ever happened,  it  would  have  been  better  than  St. 
Helena. 

"  Then  again,  the  allies  would  have  declared  that 
they  were  only  warring  against  me,  and  the  army 
P  225 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

would  have  come  to  believe  it.  History  will  perhaps 
reproach  me  for  having  succumbed  too  easily.  There 
was  a  little  pique  on  my  part.  I  offered  at  Malmaison 
to  place  myself  once  more  at  the  head  of  the  army, 
but  the  government  would  not  have  it,  so  I  left  them 
to  themselves. 

"  The  fact  is  that  I  came  back  too  soon  from  Elba, 
but  I  thought  the  Congress  was  dissolved.  No  doubt 
I  ought  to  have  declared  myself  dictator,  or  have 
formed  a  council  of  dictatorship  under  Carnot,  and 
not  to  have  called  the  Chambers  together ;  but  I  hoped 
that  the  allies  would  feel  confidence  in  me  when  they 
heard  of  my  convoking  a  parliament;  and  that  the 
Chambers  would  give  me  resources  that,  as  dictator, 
I  could  not  obtain.  But  they  did  nothing  for  me; 
they  were  injurious  before  Waterloo,  and  abandoned 
me  after  it.  In  any  case,  it  was  a  mistake  to  trouble 
myself  about  a  constitution,  as,  had  I  been  victorious, 
I  should  soon  have  sent  the  Chambers  to  the  right- 
about. I  was  wrong,  too,  to  quarrel  with  Talley- 
rand. But  this  sort  of  talk  puts  me  out  of  temper. 
Let  us  go  into  the  drawing-room  and  talk  of  our  early 
loves." 


CHAPTER  XV 

NAPOLEON  AND  THE  DEMOCRACY 

One  point  is  clear  in  all  these  discussions  on  Water- 
loo and  its  sequel :  so  clear,  and  yet  so  unnoticed,  that 
it  seems  worth  a  short  digression.  Whatever  Na- 
poleon may  occasionally  say  in  retrospect,  with 
regard  to  placing  himself  at  the  head  of  a  popular 
and  revolutionary  movement  after  Waterloo,  we  are 
convinced  that  he  was  only  deluding  himself,  or  toy- 
ing with  his  audience.  "The  recollections  of  my 
youth  deterred  me,"  he  said  with  truth  at  St.  Helena. 
He  had  seen  too  much  of  the  Revolution  to  face 
any  such  contingency.  He  had  been  the  friend  of 
Robespierre,  or  rather  of  Robespierre's  brother,  but 
after  having  reigned  over  France  as  a  sovereign  he 
entertained,  it  is  clear,  the  profoundest  repugnance 
to  anything  resembling  revolution,  or  even  disorder. 
No  eye-witness  of  the  Terror  was  affected  by  a  more  -f 
profound  reaction  than  Napoleon.  It  had  left  him 
with  a  horror  for  excess,  and  a  passion  for  order. 
He  could  have  uttered  with  absolute  truth  the  proud 
words  which  his  dynastic  successor  uttered  with 
more  imperfect  fulfilment:  "Pour  I'ordre,  j'en  r4~ 
ponds." 

This  was  no  secret  to  his  intimates.     He  feared^ 
the  people,  said  Chaptal ;  the  least  discontent  or  dis- 
turbance, the  slightest  rising  affected  him  more  than 

227 


NAI^OLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

the  loss  of  a  battle.  He  was  perpetually  vigilant  on 
this  point.  He  would  send  for  his  ministers  and 
say  that  there  was  not  enough  work,  that  the  artisans 
would  lend  an  ear  to  agitators,  and  that  he  feared  an 
-^insurrection  from  loss  of  bread  more  than  a  battle 
against  two  hundred  thousand  men.  He  would  then 
order  stuffs  and  furniture,  and  he  would  advance 
money  to  the  principal  manufacturers.  One  of  these 
crises  cost  him  in  this  way  more  than  two  millions 
sterling.  When  I  hear  people,  writes  Mme.  de  Re- 
musat,  saying  how  easy  it  is  to  govern  by  force,  I 
think  of  the  Emperor ;  of  how  he  used  to  harp  on  the 
difficulties  arising  from  the  use  of  force  against  citi- 
zens ;  of  how,  when  his  ministers  advised  any  strong 
measure,  he  would  ask,  "  Will  you  guarantee  that  the 
people  will  not  rise  against  it?"-f  He  would  take  pleas- 
ure in  talking  of  the  emotions  of  battle,  but  would 
turn  pale  at  the  narration  of  the  excesses  of  a  re- 
volted people.  The  Revolution  had,  indeed,  set  her 
seal  on  him;  he  had  never  forgotten  it.  He  repre- 
sented and  embodied  it,  but  was  always  silently  con- 
tending against  it.  And  he  knew  it  to  be  a  hopeless 
battle.  "I,  and  I  alone,  stand  between  society  and 
the  Revolution,''  he  would  say;  "I  can  govern  as  I 
like.  But  my  son  will  have  to  be  a  Liberal."  And 
he  was  right,  for  in  the  ten  months  during  which  he 
was  absent  at  Elba  the  Revolution  reared  its  head 
once  more.  It  was  always  present  to  him,  not  as 
his  source  or  inspiration,  but  as  a  nameless  terror  to 
be  averted  at  any  cost.  He  was,  indeed,  the  child 
of  the  Revolution,  but  a  child  whose  one  object  was 
parricide. 

He  dreaded  the  idea  of  firing  upon  the  people;  he 
preserved  a  life-long  regret  for  his  action  in  the  Ven- 

22S 


NAPOLEON  AND  THE  DEMOCRACY 

demiaire  outbreak,  which  he  feared  the  people  would 
never  forget :  he  was  prepared,  as  we  have  seen,  at 
almost  any  cost  to  avert  and  buy  off  the  material 
discontent  of  the  people.  But  his  hatred  of  the  Rev- 
olution and  its  methods  went  far  beyond  such  dem- 
onstrations as  these,  considerable  though  they  be. 
For  he  would  not  touch  the  Revolution,  even  to  save 
his  crown  or  himself.  Hostility  to  the  Revolution  * 
could  not  go  beyond  this.  He  had  seen,  and  seen  with-f* 
bitter  outspoken  contempt,  Louis  XVL  bow  to  the 
multitude  from  the  balcony  of  the  Tuileries  with  the 
cap  of  liberty  on  his  head.  Not  to  preserve  his  lib- 
erty or  his  dynasty  would  Napoleon  for  a  moment 
assume  that  cap. 

After  Waterloo  the  multitude  {canaille,  as  Na- 
poleon generally  called  them  at  St.  Helena)  thronged 
round  his  palace  and  begged  him  to  lead  them;  for 
they  considered  him  the  only  barrier  against  feudal- 
ism, against  the  resumption  of  the  confiscated  prop- 
erty, and  against  foreign  domination.  "What  do 
these  people  owe  me?  "  Napoleon,  as  he  hears  them, 
breaks  out  with  sudden  candor.  "  I  found  them  poor ; 
I  leave  them  poor."  Montholon  preserves  for  us 
one  of  these  scenes.  "  Two  regiments  and  a  vast  mul- 
titude from  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine  come  to  de- 
mand that  he  shall  lead  them  against  the  enemy. 
One  of  their  spokesmen  alludes  to  the  Eighteenth  of 
Brumaire.  Napoleon  replies  that  circumstances  are 
changed,  that  what  was  then  the  summary  expres- 
sion of  the  unanimous  wish  of  the  people  would  now 
require  an  ocean  of  French  blood,  and  that  he  would 
shed  none  on  behalf  of  a  personal  cause."  And  when 
the  multitude  is  dispersed  he  explains  himself  more 
fully  to  Montholon.     "  Were  I,"  he  said,  "  to  put  into 

229 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

action  the  brute  force  of  the  masses,  I  should  no 
4  doubt  save  Paris,  and  assure  the  crown  to  myself 
without  having  recourse  to  the  horrors  of  civil  war, 
but  I  should  also  risk  a  deluge  of  French  blood. 
What  power  would  be  sufficient  to  dominate  the 
passions,  the  hatred,  the  vengeance,  that  w^ould  be 
aroused?  No!  I  cannot  forget  that  I  was  brought 
from  Cannes  to  Paris  amid  sanguinary  cries  of '  Down 
with  the  priests !  Down  with  the  nobles ! '  I  prefer 
the  regrets  of  France  to  her  crown."  During  that 
famous  march  the  passion  of  the  people,  stirred  by 
the  brief  government  of  the  Bourbons,  had  made  the 
deepest  impression  on  him.  Had  he  consented  to 
associate  himself  with  their  fury  at  the  suspected 
attempt  to  resume  the  land  and  privileges  which  were 
lost  in  the  Revolution,  he  could,  he  was  convinced, 
have  arrived  in  Paris  at  the  head  of  two  millions  of 
peasants.  But  he  would  not  be  the  king  of  the  mob : 
his  whole  being,  he  declared,  revolted  at  the  thought. 
Once,  indeed,  at  Longwood  he  abandoned  himself 
for  a  moment  to  a  different  dream.  "Were  I  to  re- 
turn," he  said,  "I  should  found  my  empire  on  the 
Jacobins.  Jacobinism  is  the  volcano  which  threat- 
ens all  social  order.  Its  eruption  would  be  easily 
produced  in  Prussia,  and  by  the  overthrow  of  the  throne 
of  Berlin  I  should  have  given  an  immense  impetus 
to  the  power  of  France.  Prussia  has  always  been  since 
tJie  time  of  Frederick,  and  will  always  be,  the  greatest 
obstacle  to  my  projects  for  France.  Once  the  red  cap 
of  liberty  supreme  at  Berlin,  all  the  power  of  Prussia 
would  be  at  my  disposal.  I  would  use  it  as  a  club  to 
smash  Russia  and  Austria.  I  should  resume  the 
natural  frontier  of  France,  the  Alps  and  the  Rhine; 
and,  having  effected  that,  I  should  set  about   the 

230 


NAPOLEON  AND  THE  DEMOCRACY 

great  work  of  founding  the  French  empire.  By  my 
arms  and  by  the  force  of  Jacobinism,  by  avaihng  my- 
self of  every  favorable  circumstance  and  conjuncture 
of  events,  I  should  convert  Europe  into  a  federation 
of  small  sovereigns,  over  which  the  French  Emperor 
should  be  paramount.  I  should  fix  its  limits  at  the 
Niemen :  Alexander  should  only  be  the  Czar  of 
Asiatic  Russia.  Austria  would  be  only  one  of  three 
kingdoms — Hungary  and  Bohemia  being  the  other 
two — into  which  I  should  divide  the  empire  of  Maria 
Theresa.  Then  Europe  would  be  protected  from  Rus- 
sia, and  Great  Britain  would  become  a  second-rate 
power.  Only  thus  can  peace  be  secured  for  Europe." 
Montholon  records  this  strange  rhapsody,  and  de- 
clares that  it  was  spoken  on  March  lo,  1819,  two 
years  before  the  Emperor's  death.  It  is  very  unlike 
his  other  estimates  of  Prussia,  or  his  real  views  as 
to  Jacobinism.  We  may  take  it  to  be  a  sort  of  medi- 
tation as  to  the  possibilities  of  an  alternative  policy. 
Possibly,  indeed,  he  may  have  come  to  the  convic- 
tion, after  the  experience  of  the  Hundred  Days,  that 
were  he  ever  again  to  find  himself  in  France,  there 
was  no  other  way  of  maintaining  himself.  He  had, 
however,  made  an  allusion  of  the  same  kind  to  Met- 
ternich  in  their  famous  interview  at  Dresden,  "It 
may  be  that  I  shall  succumb,  but  if  so,  I  shall  drag 
down  with  me  all  other  crowns  and  the  whole  struc- 
ture of  society  itself." 

And  Talleyrand,  with  his  cold  instinct  of  judg- 
ment, had  seen  at  the  very  outset  of  the  Hundred 
Days  that  the  one  chance  for  Napoleon  was  to  nation-  L 
alize  the  war.  His  army  would  not  sufiice  him; 
he  must  rely  on  the  party  from  which  he  sprang,  on 
the  ruins  of  which  he  had  raised  himself,  and  which 

231 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

he  had  so  long  oppressed.  Nor  was  Alexander  in- 
sensible to  the  danger.  He  pointed  out  to  Lord 
Clancarty  that  it  was  necessary  to  detach  the  Jacobins 
from  Napoleon,  though  that  would  not  seem  to  have 
been  an  easy  task  for  a  Russian  Emperor.  Still  it  is 
well  to  note  that  the  clearest  and  best-informed 
among  the  assembled  princes  at  Vienna  realized 
that  the  one  chance  for  Napoleon  was  to  become 
again  what  he  had  been  at  the  outset  of  his  career — 
the  Revolution  incarnate. 
Lavallette  tells  us  the  truth  in  one  pregnant  sen- 

-f  fence — the  eleven  months  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XVIIL 
had  thrown  France  back  into  1 792.  Even  during  that 
short  period  discontent  had  crystallized  into  conspi- 
racies. But  their  object  was  to  place  Louis  Philippe 
as  a  constitutional  monarch  on  the  throne,  not  to 
bring  back  the  banished  despot.  On  his  return  the 
Emperor  was  alarmed.     He  found  that  the  face  of 

■V  Paris  was  changed — respect  and  regard  for  him  had 
visibly  waned.  Had  he  realized  at  Elba,  he  said,  the 
change  which  had  taken  place  in  France,  he  would 
have  remained  on  his  island.  He  would  send  for 
Lavallette — sometimes  two  or  three  times  a  day — 
and  would  discuss  the  new  situation  for  hours.  Even 
had  he  returned  victorious,  he  would,  says  Laval- 
lette, have  had  to  face  great  danger  from  internal 
troubles.  Indeed,  it  was  soon  evident  that  what  the 
country  desired  was  less  the  return  of  the  Emperor 
than  the  departure  of  the  Bourbons.  When  these 
had  gone,  enthusiasm  promptly  cooled.  Napoleon, 
with  characteristic  perception,  had  seen  this  at  once. 
To  a  minister  who  congratulated  him  on  the  miracle 
by  which  he,  almost  alone,  had  reconquered  France, 
he  replied,  "  Bah !  the  time  for  compliments  is  past ; 

2^2 


NAPOLEON  AND  THE  DEMOCRACY 

they  let  me  come  as  they  let  the  others  go."  One 
instance  will  perhaps  suffice.  Napoleon  had  re- 
sumed his  former  title  of  Emperor  by  the  Grace  of 
God  and  the  Constitutions  of  the  Empire.  This  was 
distasteful  to  the  new  spirit,  and  the  council  of  state 
replied  by  proclaiming  the  sovereignty  of  the  people, 
a  decree  not  less  distasteful  to  the  Emperor,  but  which 
he  could  not  resent.  He  had  to  put  up  with  slights, 
and  a  peremptory  insolence  from  his  Chambers. 
Nevertheless,  he  faced  this  new  situation  with  im- 
perturbable calm.  He  felt,  no  doubt,  that  in  case 
of  victory  he  could  easily  put  things  right.  But  in 
case  of  defeat?  There  he  saw  the  new  spirit  would 
overwhelm  him,  unless  he  could  summon  a  mightier 
"^  power  still  to  outbid  it,  and  proclaim  a  new  revolu- 
tion. Why,  then,  did  he  not  accept  the  last  alter- 
native? Why  did  he  not  put  himself  at  the  head 
of  an  uprising  of  revolutionary  France?  Once,  no  ^ 
doubt,  in  earlier  days,  the  personal  leadership  of  a 
revolution  would  have  been  a  dazzling  object  of  de- 
sire. The  First  Consul  would  not  have  hesitated. 
But  the  Emperor  saw  clearly,  we  think,  that  there 
would  in  that  case  have  been  no  question  of  a  dy- 
nasty, that  the  dictatorship  would  have  been  a  per-  j, 
sonal  one,  that  he  would  have  been  Sylla  or  Marius, 
not  Augustus  or  Charlemagne.  It  will  be  observed 
that,  in  his  remark  to  Montholon,  cited  above,  he 
says,  "  I  should  secure  the  crown  to  myself  " ;  there 
is  no  mention  of,  or  illusion  as  to,  a  succession.  Such 
a  position  seemed  degrading  after  that  which  he  had 
filled:  and,  as  we  have  seen,  everything  connected 
with  revolution  was  odious  to  him.  It  was,  conse--^ 
quently,  impossible  for  him  to  become  the  prophet 
or  general  of  a  new  Revolution  after  Waterloo.    Had 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

he  known  what  awaited  him — St.  Helena,  its  sordid 
miseries,  its  petty  jailers,  its  wearisome  and  hopeless 
years  of  living  death — he  might  possibly  have  over- 
come his  repugnance.  But  all  this  he  could  not  fore- 
see; and  no  less  would  have  moved  him;  so  he  pre- 
ferred to  fold  his  arms  and  watch  the  inevitable  ca- 
tastrophe of  the  rhetoricians;  to  fold  his  arms  and 
await  events.  Better,  he  thought,  the  life  of  an  Amer- 
ican farmer  than  the  presidency  of  a  committee  of 
public  safety. 

Between  Napoleon  and  the  Chambers  there  reigned 
from  the  first  a  scarcely  disguised  hostility.  Ap- 
pearances were  to  some  limited  extent  maintained. 
But  both  parties  were  playing  a  part,  with  little,  if 
any,  disguise;  and  neither  was  the  dupe  of  the 
other.  The  Chambers  were  willing  to  use  Napoleon 
as  a  consummate  general  to  resist  invasion  and  the 
return  of  the  Bourbons,  hoping  to  be  able  to  subor- 
dinate or  get  rid  of  him  when  the  victory  was  won. 
"As  soon  as  he  is  gone  to  the  army,''  said  Fouch6, 
"we  shall  be  masters  of  the  situation.  I  wish  him 
to  gain  one  or  two  battles.  But  he  will  lose  the  third, 
and  then  it  will  be  our  turn."  This  was  the  com- 
placent calculation  of  the  Chambers.  But  they  were 
in  the  position  of  the  mortal  in  the  fairy  tale  who 
summons  a  genie  which  he  cannot  control.  Napo- 
leon, on  the  other  hand,  submitted  to  the  Chambers, 
as  a  pledge  to  the  world  of  his  reformed  character, 
and  with  the  hope  of  obtaining  supplies  through 
them,  but  with  the  fixed  intention  of  getting  rid  of 
them,  if  he  should  be  victorious.  After  Ligny  he 
stated  categorically  his  intention  of  returning  to 
Paris  and  resuming  absolute  power  when  he  had 
defeated  the  English.     Each  party  was  perfectly 

234 


NAPOLEON  AND  THE  DEMOCRACY 

aware  of  the  policy  of  the  other.  There  were  no 
doubts  and  no  illusions.  It  seems  certain  that  the 
temper  of  the  Parliament  was  such  that  many  of  its 
members  hoped  that  their  arms  might  be  defeated, 
and  were  able  to  rejoice  over  Waterloo.  And  it  was 
Napoleon's  consciousness  of  the  hostility  of  the  Cham- 
bers that  compelled  his  return  to  Paris  after  the  dis- 
aster. He  has  been  blamed  for  not  remaining  on 
the  frontier  and  endeavoring  to  rally  his  shattered 
troops.  But  of  what  avail  would  this  have  been  if 
behind  him  his  own  Parliament  were  deposing  and 
disavowing  him?  Yet  no  one  can  doubt  that  these 
would  have  been  the  first  acts  of  the  Chambers 
on  hearing  of  his  defeat.  Outlawed  by  all  Europe, 
and  by  his  own  country,  he  could  hardly  have  con- 
tinued to  struggle,  even  with  much  greater  military 
forces  than  any  that  he  could  have  collected. 

This  digression  leads  inevitably  to  another.  The 
relations  of  the  Emperor  and  his  Parliament  are  clear 
and  patent.  What  is  more  difficult  to  understand  is 
that,  in  spite  of  this  last  sombre  struggle  between 
constitutionalism  and  Napoleon,  his  name  should 
have  been  cherished  as  a  watchword  for  some  thirty 
years  by  the  Liberals  of  the  Continent.  For  with 
liberty  and  its  aspirations  he  had  no  sympathy; 
he  relegated  them  to  those  whom  he  contemptuous- 
ly termed  idealogues.  Order,  justice,  force,  symme- 
try, these  were  his  administrative  ideals,  tempered 
always  by  the  personal  equation.  The  legend  of 
his  liberalism  can  only  be  explained  by  the  fact 
that,  the  constitution-mongers  of  1 815  having  dis- 
appeared on  the  return  of  the  Bourbons  in  a  storm 
of  contempt,  this  episode  of  the  Hundred  Days  was 
forgotten.     All  that  was  remembered  was  the  fact 

235 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

that  Napoleon  was  the  child  of  the  Revolution,  who 
had  humbled  and  mutilated  the  old  dynasties  of 
Europe  without  regard  to  antiquity,  or  prescription, 
or  title.  To  the  people  he  stood  for  the  Revolution, 
and  to  the  army  for  glory.  No  one  remembered,  or 
at  any  rate  cared  to  recall,  that  he  had  knowingly 
ceded  his  throne  and  yielded  himself  a  prisoner  rather 
than  place  himself  at  the  head  of  a  popular  insurrec- 
tion. 

But  had  it  been  remembered,  it  would  have  been 
held  to  be  expiated  by  the  martyrdom  of  St.  Helena. 
Napoleon  was  quite  aware  of  the  advantage  that  his 
memory  and  cause  would  derive  from  his  imprison- 
ment. His  death  in  lonely  captivity  cancelled  all 
his  errors  and  all  his  shortcomings.  His  memory, 
purged  of  all  recollection  of  his  iron  rule,  of  his  insa- 
tiable demands  on  the  blood  and  resources  of  France, 
of  the  two  invasions  of  her  territory  which  he  had 
brought  about,  became  a  tradition  and  a  miracle. 
The  peasantry  of  France  had  always  been,  next  to 
the  army,  his  main  support,  for  they  had  considered 
him  their  sure  bulwark  against  any  return  of  feudal 
rights  or  feudal  lords,  against  any  restitution  of  the 
estates  confiscated  during  the  Revolution.  The  peas- 
antry then  were  the  jealous  guardians  of  his  fame. 
Among  them  long  lingered  the  tradition  of  his  super- 
natural achievements.  Beranger,  it  has  been  re- 
marked, was  able  to  condense  the  popular  conception 
in  the  narrative  of  an  old  peasant  woman  who  does 
not  mention  a  single  one  of  his  victories. 

"  Long,  long,''  says  the  poet  in  that  exquisite  piece, 
"  will  they  talk  of  his  glory  under  the  thatched  roof ; 
in  fifty  years  the  humble  dwelling  will  know  no  other 
history."    And  he  goes  on  to  give  the  key-note  in  a 

236 


NAPOLEON  AND  THE  DEMOCRACY 

couplet.     "  Children,  through  this  village  I  saw  him 
ride,  followed  by  kings." 

It  is  too  much  to  say,  perhaps,  that  Napoleon  re- 
ceived the  honors  of  apotheosis,  but  short  of  that 
point  it  is  difficult  to  exaggerate.  He  received,  at^ 
any  rate,  the  most  singular  and  sublime  honor  that 
has  ever  been  awarded  to  humanity.  For  he  was 
known  in  France  not  as  General,  or  Consul,  or  Em- 
peror, or  even  by  his  name,  but  simply  as  "  The 
Man"  {r Homme).  His  son  was  "the  Son  of  the 
Man  ";  he  himself  was  always  "  The  Man. "  He  was,  ^ 
in  fact,  the  Man  of  the  popular  imagination,  and  it 
was  thus  that  Liberals  swore  by  him.  His  intense 
individuality,  even  more  than  his  horror  of  anarchy, 
had  made  him  an  absolute  ruler.  But  as  the  product 
of  the  Revolution,  as  the  humbler  of  kings,  a  glamour  , 
of  liberty  grew  round  his  name.  He  had  gratified 
the  passion  for  equality  by  founding  the  fourth  dy- 
nasty, though  sprung  from  nothing ;  he  had  kept  out 
the  Bourbons ;  he  had,  above  all,  crushed  and  abased 
the  chiefs  of  that  Holy  Alliance  which  weighed  so 
heavily  on  Europe,  which  endeavored  to  tread  out 
the  last  embers  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  which 
represented  an  embodied  hostility  to  freedom.  So 
regarded,  it  is  not  wonderful  that  the  image  of 
Napoleon  became  the  idol  of  Continental  Liberalism. 
Later  on,  again,  it  was  stamped  on  a  more  definite 
plan.  Authoritative  democracy,  or,  in  other  words,"!* 
democratic  dictatorship,  the  idea  which  produced  the 
Second  Empire  in  France,  which  is  still  alive  there, 
and  which,  in  various  forms,  has  found  favor  else- 
where, is  the  political  legacy,  perhaps  the  final  mes- 
sage, of  Napoleon. 

237 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    END 

It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  further  on  these  last 
scenes  or  glimpses  of  the  great  drama  of  Napoleon's 
life.  It  is  strange,  however,  to  note  that,  in  spite  of 
the  atmosphere  of  vigilance  in  which  he  lived,  the 
end  was  unexpected.  His  death  came  suddenly. 
This  we  gather  from  the  scanty  record  of  Amott; 
for  Antommarchi  we  put,  for  reasons  already  ex- 
plained, entirely  on  one  side.  Arnott  was  evidently 
unaware  of  his  patient's  grave  condition.  Though 
he  was  called  in  on  April  1st,  only  thirty-five  days 
before  Napoleon's  death,  he  did  not  then,  or  for  some 
time  afterwards,  suspect  the  gravity  of  the  illness. 
Indeed,  it  was  not  till  April  27th  or  28th,  a  bare  week 
before  the  end,  that  he  realized  that  the  malady  was 
mortal.  Nor  had  the  governor  or  the  British  gov- 
ernment any  suspicion  that  the  end  was  near. 

For  the  last  nine  days  of  his  life  he  was  constantly 
delirious.  On  the  morning  of  May  5th  he  uttered  some 
incoherent  words,  among  which  Montholon  fancied 
that  he  distinguished,  "France  .  .  .  armee  .  .  . 
tete  d'arm^e."*    As  the  patient  uttered  these  words 

•Antommarchi,  characteristically  enough,  states  that  three 
hours  afterwards  he  heard  Napoleon  say  "  tete  .  .  arm/e  "  and  that 
these  were  his  last  words.  Montholon  expressly  states  that  An- 
tommarchi was  not  in  the  room  at  two  o'clock  when  Napoleon  said 

238 


THE   END 

he  sprang  from  the  bed,  dragging  Montholon,  who 
endeavored  to  restrain  him,  on  the  floor.  It  was  the 
last  effort  of  that  formidable  energy.  He  was  with 
difficulty  replaced  in  bed  by  Montholon  and  Archam- 
bault,  and  then  lay  quietly  till  near  six  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  when  he  yielded  his  last  breath.  A 
great  storm  was  raging  outside,  which  shook  the 
frail  huts  of  the  soldiers  as  with  an  earthquake,  tore 
up  the  trees  that  the  Emperor  had  planted,  and  up- 
rooted the  willow  under  which  he  was  accustomed 
to  repose.  Within,  the  faithful  Marchand  was  cov- 
ering the  corpse  with  the  cloak  which  the  young 
conqueror  had  worn  at  Marengo. 

The  governor  and  his  staff  were  waiting  below  to 
hear  the  last  news.     On  learning  the  event  Lowe  spoke  ( ^  w .« <,  ^ 
a  few  manly  and  fitting  words.     But  the  inevitable  ^  ^''' 

wrangling  soon  broke  out  again  over  the  corpse. 
Lowe  insisted  on  an  immediate  autopsy,  which  the 
French  strenuously  resisted.  He  also  declined  to 
allow  the  removal  of  the  remains  to  France.  Here, 
he  had  no  choice.  The  unexpected  arrival  of  the 
dead  Napoleon  in  Europe  would  have  been  second 
only  in  embarrassment  to  the  arrival  of  the  living. 
Lastly,  as  we  have  seen,  he  insisted  that  the  name 
"Bonaparte"  should  be  appended  if  "Napoleon," 
as  was  proposed,  were  engraved  on  the  coffin.  Com- 
ment on  this  is  superfluous. 

During  the  next  morning  the  body  lay  in  state,  and 
Montchenu  obtained  his  only  view  of  the  captive. 
Four  days  afterwards  the  funeral  took  place  with 
such  simple  pomp  as  the  island  could  afford.     The 

't^te  d'arm/e."  The  point  is  of  little  importance  except  as  showing 
to  the  very  last  the  difficulty  of  ascertaining  the  exact  truth  at 
Longwood. 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

coffin,  on  which  lay  the  sword  and  the  mantle  of 
Marengo,  was  borne  by  British  soldiers  to  a  car 
drawn  by  four  of  the  Emperor's  horses,  and  thence 
again  by  relays  of  British  soldiers  to  a  spot  which 
he  had  himself  chosen,  should  burial  in  France  be 
refused.  It  was  in  a  garden  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep 
ravine.  There,  under  the  shade  of  two  willows,  by 
the  side  of  a  spring  which  had  supplied  the  Emperor 
with  water  to  drink,  had  the  grave  been  dug.  The 
inmates  of  Longwood  followed  as  chief  mourners. 
Then  came  Lowe,  Montchenu,  and  the  officials,  civil, 
naval,  and  military,  of  the  island.  As  the  body  was 
lowered  into  the  earth  there  were  salvoes  of  mus- 
ketry and  cannon. 

Nineteen  years  afterwards  a  French  frigate,  under 
the  command  of  the  Prince  of  Joinville,  anchored  at 
Jamestown.  It  had  come  for  the  purpose  of  con- 
veying back  to  France  the  Emperor's  remains.  They 
had  been  surrendered  in  the  hope  expressed  by  the 
British  government  that  the  last  traces  of  national 
animosity  would  be  buried  in  the  tomb  of  Napoleon. 
But  before  the  vessel  had  returned  with  her  precious 
burden  the  two  countries  were  on  the  very  brink  of 
war.  In  the  Belle-Poule  there  returned  on  this  last 
pious  pilgrimage  to  St.  Helena  Bertrand  and  Gour- 
gaud,  the  young  Las  Cases,  and  Arthur  Bertrand 
("the  first  French  visitor  who  entered  St.  Helena 
without  Lord  Bathurst's  permission").  There,  too, 
were  Marchand,  the  most  faithful  and  trusted  of  the 
Emperor's  attendants,  Noverraz,  Pierron,  and  Ar- 
chambault,  as  well  as  St.  Denis,  who,  disguised  under 
the  name  of  Ali,  had  acted  as  second  Mameluke  with 
Rustan,  and  whom  Napoleon  had  often  used  as  an 
amanuensis  at  St.  Helena.     Together  these  sombre 

240 


THE   END 

and  devoted  survivors  visited  the  scene  of  their  ex- 
ile, and  amid  the  shame  and  embarrassment  of  the 
British  authorities,  witnessed  the  degradation  of 
Longwood  into  a  stable.  Together  they  surrounded 
their  master's  grave  at  midnight  on  October  15,  1840 
(the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  his  arrival  at  St. 
Helena),  and  when,  after  ten  hours'  strenuous  labor, 
the  coffin  was  disinterred,  they  beheld  once  more 
the  features  of  the  Emperor,  unaltered  and  unim- 
paired. Together  they  followed  the  corpse  in  a  pro- 
cession which  savored  less  of  a  funeral  than  a  triumph 
to  Paris.  It  was  then  that  the  dead  conqueror  made 
the,  most  majestic  of  his  entrances  into  his  capital. 
On  a  bitter  December  morning  the  King  of  the  French, 
surrounded  by  the  princes  and  ministers  and  splen- 
dors of  France,  sat  in  silent  state  under  the  dome 
of  the  Invalides,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  corpse. 
Suddenly  a  chamberlain  appearing  at  the  door  an- 
nounced, in  a  clear  and  resonant  voice,  "VEmpe- 
reiir,"  as  if  it  were  the  living  sovereign,  and  the  vast 
and  illustrious  assembly  rose  with  a  common  emo- 
tion as  the  body  was  borne  slowly  in.  The  spec- 
tators could  not  restrain  their  tears  as  they  realized 
the  pathos  and  significance  of  the  scene.  Behind 
the  coffin  walked  the  surviving  exiles  of  St.  Helena ; 
it  was  the  undisputed  privilege  of  Bertrand  to  lay 
his  master's  sword  upon  the  pall. 

One  point  in  the  Emperor's  last  illness  should  be 
noticed  once  for  all.  The  policy  of  Longwood,  ac- 
tively supported  by  O'Meara,  was  to  declare  that 
there  was  a  deadly  liver  complaint,  indigenous  to  the 
island,  to  which  Napoleon  was  a  victim,  and  which 
could,  of  course,  only  be  cured  by  his  removal.  We 
think  that  the  Emperor  himself,  who  combined  a  , 
e  241 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

shrewd  interest  with  a  rooted  disbelief  in  the  art  of 
medicine,  knew  better.  He  would,  for  example,  put 
his  hand  on  the  pit  of  his  stomach,  and  say,  with  a 
groan,  "  Oh,  mon  pylore  !  mon  Pylore  !"  He,  how- 
ever, as  we  have  seen,  gravely  condoled  with  Gour- 
gaud,  who  was  in  the  best  of  health,  on  being  an- 
other victim  of  this  insular  malady.  Within  two 
months  of  his  own  death  he  wrote  to  Pauline  that 
the  "  liver  complaint  w4th  which  he  has  been  afflicted 
for  six  years,  and  which  is  endemic  and  mortal  at 
St.  Helena,  has  made  alarming  progress  during  the 
last  six  months."  Within  a  month  of  his  death  he 
made  the  same  complaint  to  Arnott.  Montholon, 
on  his  return  to  Europe,  in  spite  of  the  post-mortem 
examination,  still  gallantly  maintained  the  theory  of 
a  liver  complaint.  But  Napoleon's  liver  was  found 
to  be  quite  sound;  he  died  of  the  cancer  in  the 
stomach  which  had  killed  his  father. 

His  last  days,  before  the  agony  began,  were  tragi- 
cal enough,  as  we  gather  from  the  jejune  chronicles 
of  Montholon.  Even  these  records  do  not  give  the 
impression  of  having  been  written  from  day  to  day, 
but  retrospectively,  perhaps  from  notes.  Bertrand, 
in  a  letter  to  King  Joseph,  says  that  after  August, 
1820,  the  Emperor  remained  almost  always  in  his 
chair,  and  in  his  dressing-gown,  able  to  read  and 
talk,  but  not  to  work  or  dictate.  He  and  his  suite 
would  sometimes  build  castles  in  the  air  of  a  new 
life  in  America,  but  he  well  knew  that  he  was  dying. 
He  devoted  much  time  to  his  will,  and  was  extremely 
anxious  that  the  collection  of  letters  from  European 
sovereigns  to  himself,  as  well  as  a  few  that  Mme. 
de  Stael  had  written  to  him  from  Italy,  should  be 
published.     On  this  point  he  was  strenuous  and  in- 

242 

Dv     ^Vvl4?ii>       «iii5  A.Cr  ^,J  _      .1     ^ 


THE   END 

sistent.  He  believed  them  to  be  in  the  hands  of 
Joseph.  But  they  had  been  stolen,  and  had  been 
offered  to  and  refused  by  Murray  the  publisher. 
The  Russian  government  had  intervened  and  pur- 
chased, for  a  large  sum,  the  letters  of  Alexander: 
the  fate  of  the  others  is  not  known.  He  would  still 
read  aloud,  and  would  still  discuss  the  past.  But  it 
is  strange  how  little  we  know  of  it  all,  and  we  infer 
that  Napoleon's  suite  were  as  much  in  the  dark  as 
the  rest  of  the  world  with  regard  to  their  master's 
approaching  end.  Otherwise,  they  would  surely 
have  recorded  with  pious  care  these  remarkable  mo- 
ments. 

It  is  these  last  moments  that  we  chiefly  grudge  to 
oblivion.  Otherwise,  one  may  well  ask :  what  is  the 
use  of  recalling  these  sere  records  of  the  captivity  of 
St.  Helena?  They  can  scarcely  be  called  history; 
they  are  not,  unhappily,  romance;  they  can  hardly 
be  held  to  possess  any  healthy  attraction.  They 
only  narrate,  with  obtrusive  inaccuracy,  an  episode 
which  no  one  has  any  interest  in  remembering,  and 
which  all  would  fain  forget.  Why,  then,  collate 
these  morbid,  sordid,  insincere  chronicles?  Does 
not  history  tell  us  that  there  is  nothing  so  melan- 
choly as  the  aspect  of  great  men  in  retirement,  from 
Nebuchadnezzar  in  his  meadow  to  Napoleon  on  his 
rock  ? 

The  first  answer  to  this  question  is  incidental 
and  personal.  To  the  present  writer  Lord  Beacons- 
field  once  explained  why  he  wrote  Count  Alarcos,  a 
drama  nearly,  if  not  quite,  forgotten.  It  was  pro- 
duced, he  said,  not  in  the  hope  of  composing  a  great 
tragedy,  but  of  laying  a  literary  ghost.  The  story 
haunted  him,  and  would,  he  felt,  haunt  him  until  he 

243 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

should  have  put  it  into  shape.  And  so  it  is  with  this 
Httle  book.  It  cannot  help  embodying  a  tragedy, 
but  it  was  written  to  lay  a  literary  ghost,  dormant 
for  years,  only  quickened  into  activity  by  the  analy- 
sis of  Gourgaud's  last  journals,  and  by  stimulating 
leisure. 

Secondly,  it  is  an  episode  on  which  History  has 
yet  to  record  her  final  judgment.  Nor  is  it  clear  that 
she  is  yet  in  a  position  to  do  so.  The  actors,  indeed, 
have  long  passed  away ;  the  blood  heated  by  twenty 
years  of  warfare  is  now  cold  enough;  on  the  one 
side  the  faint  inextinguishable  hopes,  on  the  other 
the  apprehensions  and  the  suspicions,  all  are  dead. 
And  yet — the  subject  still  seems  warm.  It  is  doubt- 
ful if  one  side  is  yet  cool  enough  to  own  any  error ;  it 
is  doubtful  if  the  other  side  has  wholly  forgiven. 
Nations  have  silent,  stubborn  memories.  The  fires 
of  Smithfield  have  left  in  England  embers  that  still 
smoulder.  Ireland  has  remembered  much  which  it 
would  be  for  her  own  happiness  to  forget.  The 
Scots  are  still  Jacobites  at  heart. 

Again,  we  have  more  chance  of  seeing  the  man 
-f  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena  than  at  any  other  period  of 
his  career.  In  the  first  years  of  the  consulate  the 
man  was  revealed,  but  then  he  was  undeveloped. 
On  the  throne  he  ceased  to  be  human.  At  Elba  he 
had  no  present  existence ;  he  was  always  in  the  past 
or  the  future. 

And,  again,  what  was  published  about  him  during 
his  life,  and  for  long  after  his  death,  has  little  value. 
A  sure  test  of  great  men  of  action  is  the  absence  of 
lukewarmness  with  regard  to  them.  They  are  de- 
tested or  adored.  The  idolatry  and  hatred  which  Na- 
poleon inspired  survived  him  too  long  to  allow  of  the 

244 


THE   END 

play  of  reason.  No  one  seemed  able  then,  or  for  long 
afterwards,  to  put  on  a  pair  of  smoked  glasses  and 
gaze  dispassionately  at  this  dazzling  luminary.  Nor 
is  it  easy  now.  One  has  to  sift  evidence  and  passion, 
and  make  allowance  for  it  all.  His  correspondence, 
especially  that  part  which  was  suppressed,  furnishes, 
of  course,  the  great  picture  of  his  manifold  activities 
and  methods.  This  is,  however,  but  a  small  frac- 
tion of  the  literature  which  concerns  him.  Of  books 
and  memoirs  about  Napoleon  there  is  indeed  no  end. 
Of  reliable  books,  which  give  a  sure,  or  even  remotely 
impartial,  picture  of  the  man,  there  are  remarkably 
few. 

Some  judicious  observers,  who  knew  Napoleon  well, 
wrote  their  real  impressions,  but  wrote  them  very  se- 
cretly, and  the  result  is  only  now  oozing  out.  Of  these 
witnesses  we  incline  to  put  Chaptal  first.  He  was  for 
some  time  Napoleon's  confidential  minister,  and  he 
analyzes  his  character  with  the  dispassionate  science 
of  an  eminent  chemist.  Pasquier  we  are  inclined  to 
place  next,  as  being  on  the  whole  unfavorably  fair. 
With  him  we  should  perhaps  bracket  Segur,  whose 
memoirs,  which  include  the  classical  history  of  the 
Russian  expedition,  give  a  brilliant  portrait,  the  work 
of  an  admirer,  but  by  no  means  a  blind  admirer. 
We  should  put  it  as  a  pendant  to  that  of  Pasquier, 
and  say  that  it  is  favorably  fair.  And  the  beauty  of 
the  style,  the  exquisite  eloquence  of  some  of  the  pas- 
sages, would  lure  on  the  sternest  and  sourest  critics 
of  the  hero.  Lavallette,  though  he  does  not  tell  us 
much,  and  though  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  on  the 
slightest  grounds,  stigmatized  him  as  a  liar,  seems 
sufficiently  reliable,  on  the  partial  side.  Roederer, 
from  among  a  number  of  massive  volumes  contain- 

245 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

ing  his  unreadable  works,  yields  some  pure  gold, 
priceless  notes  of  Napoleonic  conversation.  Mme.  de 
Remusat,  with  heavy  deductions,  leaves  something 
of  value.  But  we  can  never  forget  that  she  burned 
her  real,  contemporary  memoirs  in  1 815,  and  that 
those  now  published  were  composed  three  years  af- 
terwards, during  the  bitterest  reaction  of  the  Restora- 
tion, when  it  was  considered  indecent  to  allude  to 
the  Emperor,  much  less  pronounce  his  name,  in  polite 
society.  Moreover,  she  was  the  close  friend  of  Talley- 
rand, Napoleon's  unremitting  enemy;  was  lady-in- 
waiting  to  Josephine,  whose  wrongs  she  resented; 
and,  worst  of  all,  was  a  woman  who  could  not  forgive 
Napoleon's  clumsiness  and  deficiencies  as  a  lady's 
man.  On  a  lower  scale  we  may  mention  Meneval 
and  Beausset.  On  a  lower  still  there  is  Constant. 
Constant  (the  valet,  not  Benjamin)  gives  many  de- 
tails of  interest,  though  the  memoirs  which  bear  his 
name  were  probably  written  by  another  hand  from 
his  notes.  To  him,  in  despite  of  the  proverb,  his 
master  was  a  hero.  We  place  some  confidence  in 
Miot  de  Melito,  and  in  the  dry  humor  of  Beugnot. 
Nor  do  we  desire  to  disparage  the  authors,  some  of 
them  conspicuous,  whom  we  do  not  name;  we  only 
desire  to  indicate  those  who  seem  most  worthy  of 
confidence.  Scores  of  memoirs  throw  here  and  there 
a  flash  of  light  on  the  man.  But  the  light  is  usually 
accidental,  as  the  writers  are  generally  idolaters  or 
enemies.  To  Marbot  and  Thiebault  we  owe  the  most 
vivid  snap-shots  of  Napoleon.  The  extraordinary 
life-like  scene  of  Napoleon  at  the  masked  ball  mop- 
ping his  hot  head  with  a  wet  handkerchief,  and  mur- 
muring, "  Oh  1  que  c'est  hon,  que  c'est  bon  ! "  is  re- 
corded by  Marbot.    The  fleeting  vision  of  Napoleon 

246 


THE   END 

galloping  homewards  through  Spain  alone  with  an 
aide-de-camp,  whose  horse  the  Emperor  is  flogging 
with  a  postilion's  whip,  is  the  little  masterpiece  of 
Thiebault.  We  wish  we  felt  sure  of  the  conscientious 
accuracy  of  either  author. 

At  length,  in  this  final  phase,  we  have  some  chance 
of  seeing  something  of  the  man.  The  artifice  and 
drapery  still  encompass  him,  but  not  always;  and 
through  the  perplexed  and  adulatory  narratives  there 
come  glimpses  of  light.  From  one  there  even  comes 
illumination.  Had  Gourgaud  remained  till  the  end, 
it  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  we  should  have 
known  from  him  more  of  the  naked  Napoleon  than 
from  all  the  existing  library  of  Napoleonic  literature. 
But  Gougaud  leaves  before  we  most  require  him. 
The  remaining  records  tell  us  little  or  nothing  of  that 
period  when  there  may  have  been  in  all  probability 
most  to  be  learned — at  that  supreme  opportunity  for 
self-revelation  when  the  vanities  and  passions  of  life 
were  paling  before  the  infinite  shadow  of  death.  It 
was  then  that,  left  alone  with  history  and  with  eter- 
nity, the  man,  as  apart  from  the  warrior  and  states- 
man, might  possibly,  but  not  probably,  have  re- 
vealed himself,  and  confessed  himself,  and  spoken 
what  truth  was  in  him.  Indeed,  the  declaration 
about  the  Due  d'Enghien's  death,  made  five  weeks 
before  his  own,  shows  that  the  dying  man  did  assert 
himself  with  passionate  impatience  to  clear  others 
and  to  tell  the  truth. 

But,  even  without  the  last  revelations,  which  he 
may  have  made,  but  which  we  have  not  got,  it  is 
to  St.  Helena  that  the  world  must  look  for  the  final 
glimpse  of  this  great  human  problem.  For  a  problem 
he  is,  and  must  ever  remain.     Mankind  will  always 

247 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

+  delight  to  scrutinize  something  that  indefinitely 
raises  its  conception  of  its  own  powers  and  possibil- 
ities. For  this  reason  it  loves  balloons  and  flying 
machines,  apparatus  that  moves  below  earth  or  sea, 
the  men  who  accomplish  physical  or  intellectual  feats 
which  enlarge  the  scope  of  human  achievement.  For 
this  reason  also  it  seeks,  but  eternally  in  vain,  to 
penetrate  the  secret  of  this  prodigious  human  being. 
In  spite  of  all  this  delving,  mining,  and  analysis, 
what  secret  there  is  will  probably  evade  discovery. 
Partly,  it  may  be  argued,  because  it  is  so  complex. 
Partly,  it  may  be  contended,  because  there  is  none : 
there  are  only  the  play  and  procession  of  destiny. 

As  to  the  complexity  of  the  problem,  as  to  the  va- 
riety of  the  man,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  But  the 
study,  even  if  illusory,  will  always  remain  absorbing. 
There  will  always  be  alchemists,  and  always  investi- 
gators of  Napoleon's  character.  Nor  can  this  be  con- 
sidered surprising.     He  is  so  multifarious,  luminous, 

4  and  brilliant  that  he  gives  light  from  a  thousand 
facets.  Sometimes  he  invents,  sometimes  he  talks 
something  perilously  like  nonsense;  sometimes  he 
is  petty,  theatrical,  or  outrageous,  but  in  the  main, 
where  you  get  at  the  man  himself,  he  is  intensely 
human  and  profoundly  interesting.  Study,  then,  of 
Napoleon's  utterances,  apart  from  any  attempt  to 
discover  the  secret  of  his  prodigious  exploits,  cannot 
be  considered  as  lost  time:  whether  it  be  pursued 
with  the  view  of  imitating,  or  avoiding,  or  simply 
of  learning,  it  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  stimulating. 
His  career,  partly  perhaps  because  it  is  not  scientifi- 
cally divided  into  acts  or  phases,  gives  rise  to  a  num- 
ber of  questions,  all  obvious  and  pertinent,  but  sel- 
dom admitting   of  a  direct   or   satisfactory   reply. 

248 


THE   END 

What  was  his  conception  of  hfe?  What  was  his  fixed 
object?  Had  he  any  such  deUberate  conception  or 
object  ?  Was  he  always  sane  ?  Was  he  in  any  degree 
a  charlatan?  Was  he  simply  a  lucky  fatalist  of  vast 
natural  powers?  Or  was  his  success  due  to  the  most  "^ 
remarkable  combination  of  intellect  and  energy  that 
stands  on  exact  record? 

To  all  these  questions,  and  scores  of  others,  many 
capable  men  will  be  ready  with  a  prompt  reply.  But 
the  more  the  student  examines  the  subject,  the  less 
ready  will  he  be  with  an  answer.  He  may  at  last  ar- 
rive at  his  own  hypothesis,  but  it  will  not  be  a  con- 
fident one ;  and  he  will  find,  without  surprise,  that  his 
fellows,  equally  laborious  and  equally  conscientious, 
will  all  supply  excellent  solutions,  totally  at  variance 
with  his  own  and  with  each  other. 

By  the  philosopher,  and  still  more  by  the  philoso- 
pher who  believes  in  the  divine  guidance  of  human 
affairs,  the  true  relation  of  Napoleon  to  the  world's 
history  will  be  reduced  to  a  very  simple  conception : 
that  he  was  launched  into  the  world  as  a  great  natural 
or  supernatural  force,  as  a  scourge  and  a  scavenger, 
to  effect  a  vast  operation,  partly  positive,  but  mainly 
negative;  and  that  when  he  has  accomplished  that 
work  he  is  withdrawn  as  swiftly  as  he  came.  Caesar, 
Attila,  Tamerlane,  and  Mahomet  are  forces  of  this 
kind;  the  last  a  much  more  potent  and  abiding  fac- 
tor in  the  universe  than  Napoleon ;  another  proof,  if 
proof  were  needed,  of  how  small  is  the  permanent  |. 
effect  of  warfare  alone  on  the  history  of  mankind. 
These  men  make  great  epochs;  they  embody  vast 
transitions;  they  perplex  and  appall  their  contem- 
poraries; but  when  viewed  at  a  distance,  they  are 
seen  to  be  periodical  and  necessary  incidents  of  the 

249 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

world's  movement.  The  details  of  their  career,  their 
morals,  their  methods,  are  then  judged,  interesting 
though  they  may  be,  to  be  merely  subordinate  details. 

Scavenger  is  a  coarse  word,  yet  it  accurately  rep- 
resents Napoleon's  first  function  as  ruler.  The  vol- 
cano of  the  French  Revolution  had  burned  itself 
out.  He  had  to  clear  away  the  cold  lava ;  the  rubbish 
of  past  destruction ;  the  cinders  and  the  scoriae ;  the 
fungus  of  corruption  which  had  overgrown  all,  and 
was  for  the  moment  the  only  visible  result.  What 
he  often  said  of  the  crown  of  France  is  absolutely  true 
of  its  government.  'T  found  it  in  the  gutter,  and 
I  picked  it  up  on  my  sword's  point."  The  gutter 
government  he  replaced  by  a  new  administrative 
machine,  trim,  pervading,  and  efficient;  efficient, 
that  is  to  say,  so  long  as  the  engineer  was  a  man 
of  extraordinary  energy  and  genius. 

Then  he  is  a  scourge.  He  purges  the  floor  of 
Europe  with  fire.  As  the  sword  and  spirit  of  the 
Revolution,  though  in  all  the  pomp  of  the  purple,  he 
visits  the  ancient  monarchies,  and  compels  them  to 
set  their  houses  in  order.  True,  after  his  fall,  they 
relapse.  But  it  is  only  for  a  space,  and  reform,  if  not 
revolt,  is  soon  busy  among  them.  Had  it  not  been  for 
Napoleon  this  could  not  have  happened ;  for,  when  he 
assumed  the  government,  Europe  seemed  at  last  to 
have  stemmed  the  Revolution. 

We  do  not  discuss  his  military  greatness;  that  is 
universally  acknowledged.  It  would,  moreover,  re- 
quire an  expert  and  a  volume  to  discuss  it  with 
authority.  To  the  civilian  eye  he  seems,  at  his  best, 
the  greatest  of  all  soldiers.  His  rapidity  of  move- 
ment and  apprehension,  his  power  of  inspiring  his 
armies  to  perform  extraordinary  feats,  his  knowledge 

250 


THE   END 

of  detail  combined  with  his  gigantic  grasp,  his  pro- 
digious triumphs,  make  cool  judgment  difficult. 
Later  on,  even  civilians  may  see  faults — the  grand 
army,  for  example,  becoming,  before  it  struck  a  blow, 
little  more  than  a  mob,  without  discipline  and  without 
provisions,  for  want  of  practical  foresight  and  com- 
missariat. There  is  a  disposition,  too — perhaps  a 
growing  one — to  attribute  a  larger  share  of  credit  to 
his  lieutenants  for  some  of  his  great  victories;  to 
Desaix,  for  instance,  at  Marengo ;  to  Davoust  for  Jena. 
But,  let  what  will  be  subtracted,  there  remains  an 
irreducible  maximum  of  fame  and  exploit.  After 
all,  the  mass  of  mankind  can  only  judge  of  results. 
And,  though  there  may  be  no  one  achievement  equal 
to  Caesar's  victory  at  Alesia,  the  military  genius  of 
Napoleon  in  its  results  is  unsurpassed. 

We  do  not,  of  course,  imply  that  the  negative  and 
warrior  work  of  Napoleon,  immense  though  it  was, 
represents  anything  like  his  whole  career.  He  was  a 
great  administrator.  He  controlled  every  wheel  and 
spring,  large  or  small,  of  his  vast  machinery  of  gov- 
ernment. It  was,  as  it  were,  his  plaything.  He 
was  his  own  War  Office,  his  own  Foreign  Office,  his 
own  Admiralty,  his  own  ministry  of  every  kind.  His 
minister  of  police,  when  he  was  Fouche,  had  no 
doubt  a  department  of  some  independence;  but  then 
Napoleon  had  half  a  dozen  police  agencies  of  his  own. 
His  financial  management,  by  which  he  sustained  i, 
a  vast  empire  with  power  and  splendor,  but  with 
rigid  economy,  and  without  a  debt,  is  a  marvel  and 
a  mystery.  In  all  the  offices  of  state  he  knew  every- 
thing, guided  everything,  inspired  everything.  He 
himself  aptly  enough  compared  his  mind  to  a  cup- 
board of  pigeon-holes;  to  deal  with  any  subject  he 

251 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

opened  the  pigeon-hole  relating  to  it  and  closed  the 
others;  when  he  wished  to  sleep  he  closed  them  all. 
Moreover,  his  inexhaustible  memory  made  him  fa- 
miliar with  all  the  men  and  all  the  details,  as  well  as 
with  all  the  machinery,  of  government.  Daru,  one 
of  Napoleon's  most  efficient  ministers,  told  Lamarque 
a  curious  story  which  illustrates  the  Emperor's  un- 
flagging vigilance  of  administration.  One  day,  in 
the  Eylau  campaign,  Daru  left  the  Emperor,  say- 
ing that  he  had  to  open  his  letters.  "What  letters 
can  you  receive,"  asked  the  Emperor,  derisively,  "in 
this  Arab  camp,  where  we  live  on  the  country  as  we 
march?"  "Your  Majesty  shall  see,"  replied  Daru, 
and  in  a  short  time  returned,  followed  by  half  a  dozen 
secretaries  laden  with  papers.  Napoleon  opened  the 
first  at  hazard;  it  contained  a  demand  from  the  hos- 
pital at  Mayence  for  a  hundred  syringes.  "What! 
Do  you  provide  syringes  for  the  hospital  at  Ma- 
yence?" "Yes,  and  Your  Majesty  pays  for  them." 
The  Emperor  spent  four  hours  opening  and  reading 
all  the  letters;  he  continued  to  do  so  for  eight  suc- 
cessive days;  then  he  said:  "For  the  first  time  I 
understand  the  mechanism  of  an  army."  On  his 
return  to  Paris  after  Tilsit  he  pursued  the  same  course 
with  all  the  other  ministers  successively.  After  this 
process,  which  lasted  six  weeks,  he  carried  a  similar 
investigation  into  the  ranks  of  the  subordinates. 
What  a  force  in  itself  was  this  quick  yet  laborious  ap- 
prehension, this  detailed  probing  of  his  vast  admin- 
istration! The  inherent  defect  of  such  an  execu- 
tive was  that  no  less  an  energy  or  intellect  could 
have  kept  it  going  for  a  week.  So  completely  did 
it  depend  on  the  master  that  it  was  paralyzed  by  the 
least  severance  from  him.     The  conspiracy  of  Mal- 

252 


THE   END 

let,  in  1812,  and  the  conduct  of  affairs  by  the  council 
of  regency,  in  1 814,  are  eminent  instances  of  this. 

Then  he  was  a  great  legislator.  The  positive  and 
permanent  part  of  his  work  is,  of  course,  the  Code. 
Wars  end,  and  conquests  shrink — so  much  so,  that 
Napoleon,  after  all,  left  France  less  than  he  found  it. 
Indeed,  the  only  trace  of  his  reign  now  visible  on  the 
face  of  Europe  is  the  Bernadotte  dynasty  in  Sweden, 
which  was  not  the  direct  result  of  conquest,  or, 
indeed,  the  direct  work  of  Napoleon.  All  that  of 
this  kind  he  planned  and  fashioned  passed  away 
with  him.  But  the  Code  remains,  and  profoundly  af- 
fects the  character  of  the  nation,  as  well  as  of  the 
other  races  to  which  it  has  been  extended.  Few  en- 
actments, for  example,  have  had  a  more  potent  effect 
in  moulding  the  social  and  political  life  of  a  commu- 
nity than  the  provision  of  the  Code  for  the  compul- 
sory division  of  property.  It  checks  population,  it 
enforces  equality,  it  constitutes  the  most  powerful 
and  conservative  of  landed  interests. 

To  achieve  such  work  required  a  puissant  organi- 
zation, and,  indeed,  his  physical  constitution  was 
not  less  remarkable  than  his  intellectual  mechanism. 
His  digestion  endured  for  a  life-time,  without  resent- 
ment, hearty  meals  devoured  in  a  few  moments  at 
odd  times.  His  first  tooth  was  extracted  at  St.  He- 
lena, and  then,  it  appears,  unnecessarily.  But  this 
operation  was  the  only  one  that  he  ever  underwent. 
It  appeared  in  other  ways  that  his  exceptional  mind  -|- 
was  lodged  in  an  exceptional  body.  In  his  prime, 
before  his  passion  for  hot  baths  had  weakened  him, 
he  was  incapable  of  fatigue.  He  fought  Alvinzy 
once  for  five  consecutive  days  without  taking  off  his 
boots  or  closing  his  eyes;  when  he  had  beaten  the 

253 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

Austrian  he  slept  for  thirty-six  hours.  On  arriving 
at  the  Tuileries  after  his  breathless  journey  from 
Valladolid,  when  he  had  only  paused  for  a  few  hours 
at  Bayonne,  he  insisted  on  at  once  inspecting,  with- 
out an  instant's  delay,  the  entire  palace,  and  the 
Louvre,  where  new  constructions  were  proceeding. 
He  would  post  from  Poland  to  Paris,  summon  a  coun- 
cil at  once,  and  preside  at  it  with  his  usual  vigor  and 
acuteness.  And  his  councils  were  no  joke.  They 
would  last  eight  or  ten  hours.  Once,  at  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  the  councillors  were  all  worn  out ;  the 
Minister  of  Marine  was  fast  asleep;  Napoleon  still 
urged  them  to  further  deliberation:  "Come,  gentle- 
men, pull  yourselves  together ;  it  is  only  two  o'clock ; 
we  must  earn  the  money  that  the  nation  gives  us." 
Throughout  these  sittings  his  mind  was  always  ac- 
tive and  predominant.  Never  did  a  council  separate 
without  being  the  wiser,  either  from  what  he  taught 
or  from  the  close  investigation  which  he  insisted 
upon.  He  would  work  for  eighteen  hours  at  a  stretch, 
sometimes  at  one  subject,  sometimes  at  a  variety. 
Never,  says  Roederer,  have  I  seen  his  mind  weary; 
never  have  I  seen  his  mind  without  its  spring ;  not  in 
strain  of  body,  or  wrath,  or  the  most  violent  exercise. 
Sometimes  he  carried  physical  force  to  an  extreme 
point.  He  kicked  Volney  in  the  stomach  for  saying 
that  France  wanted  the  Bourbons,  and  the  philoso- 
pher was  carried  away  senseless.  On  another  occa- 
sion he  knocked  down  his  chief  justice  and  bela- 
bored him  with  his  fists.  He  is  said  to  have  attacked 
Berthier  with  the  tongs.  These  were  the  rare  erup- 
tions of  a  nervous  system  occasionally  yielding  to 
continuous  strain.  Nor  was  the  primitive  Corsican 
altogether  smothered  under  the  robe  of  empire. 

254 


THE   END 

Again,  there  were  reactions.  Witness  that  strange 
scene  at  the  Httle  mansion  of  Diiben,  where  he  sits  for 
two  days  on  a  sofa,  heedless  of  the  despatches  which 
are  massed  on  his  table  calling  for  a  reply,  engaged 
in  vacantly  tracing  capital  letters  on  sheets  of  paper, 
in  a  prostration  of  doubt  whether  he  shall  march  on 
Leipsic  or  Berlin.  Witness  the  apathy  at  Malmaison 
after  Waterloo, 

One  other  positive  result,  which  is  in  truth  scarcely 
less  substantial  than  the  Code,  may  be  laid  to  his 
account.  He  has  left  behind  the  memory  of  a  period 
of  splendor  and  dominion,  which,  even  if  it  does  not 
keep  the  imagination  of  his  people  in  a  perpetual 
glow,  remains  a  symbol,  as  monumental  and  visible 
as  the  tomb  in  the  Invalides,  to  stimulate  the  nation- 
al ambition.  The  terrible  sacrifices  which  he  ex- 
acted are  forgotten,  and,  if  they  be  remembered,  com- 
pare not  unfavorably  (on  paper,  at  all  events)  with 
those  entailed  by  the  modern  system,  even  in  time 
of  peace,  without  foreign  supremacy  or  the  empire 
of  the  West  to  be  placed  to  the  credit  side.  And  so 
they  may  obliterate  the  eagles  and  the  initials  if  they 
will ;  it  avails  nothing.  France,  in  chill  moments  of 
disaster,  or  of  even  of  mere  material  and  commercial 
well-being,  will  turn  and  warm  herself  at  the  glories 
of  Napoleon.  The  atmosphere  is  still  imbued  with 
the  light  and  heat  of  the  imperial  era,  with  the  blaze 
of  his  victories,  and  with  the  lustre  of  those  years 
when  Europe  was  the  anvil  for  the  hammer  of  France. 

The  details  of  method  and  morals  are,  in  cases 
like  Napoleon's,  as  we  have  said,  subordinate  mat- 
ters— subordinate,  that  is,  for  History,  which  only 
concerns  itself  with  his  effect  and  result.  But,  none 
the  less,  they  are  profoundly  interesting  for  mankind. 

255 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

They  will  not,  indeed,  enable  us  to  discover  his  se- 
cret. We  study  them  as  we  would  the  least  facts 
concerning  a  supernatural  visitant,  a  good  or  bad 
spirit,  something  alien  to  ourselves,  and  yet  linked 
to  ourselves  by  the  bond  of  humanity — not  merely 
human  shape  and  human  utterance,  but  human  fail- 
ing and  human  depravity. 

What,  after  all,  is  the  story? 

Into  a  career  of  a  score  of  years  he  crowded  his  own 
dazzling  career,  his  conquests,  his  triumphant  as- 
sault on  the  Old  World.  In  that  brief  space  we  see 
the  lean,  hungry  conqueror  swell  into  the  sovereign, 
and  then  into  the  sovereign  of  sovereigns.  Then 
comes  the  catastrophe.  He  loses  the  balance  of  his 
judgment  and  becomes  a  curse  to  his  own  country, 
and  to  all  others.  He  cannot  be  still  himself,  or  give 
mankind  an  instant  of  repose.  His  neighbors'  land- 
marks become  playthings  to  him ;  he  cannot  leave 
them  alone ;  he  manipulates  them  for  the  mere  love 
of  moving  them.  His  island  enemy  is  on  his  nerves ; 
he  sees  her  everywhere;  he  strikes  at  her  blindly 
and  wildly.  And  so  he  produces  universal  unrest, 
universal  hostility,  the  universal  sense  of  his  incom- 
patibility with  all  established  society.  But  he  pur- 
sues his  path  as  if  possessed,  as  if  driven  by  the  in- 
ward sting  of  some  burning  devil.  He  has  ceased 
to  be  sane.  The  intellect  and  energy  are  still  there, 
but,  as  it  were,  in  caricature;  they  have  become 
monstrosities.  Body  and  mind  are  affected  by  the 
prolonged  strain  to  be  more  than  mortal.  Then  there 
is  the  inevitable  collapse;  and  at  St.  Helena  we  are 
watching,  with  curious  compassion,  the  reaction  and 
decline. 

The  truth  we  take  to  be  this.     The  mind  of  man 

256 


THE   END 

has  not  in  it  sufficient  ballast  to  enable  it  to  exercise, 
or  endure  for  long,  supreme  uncontrolled  power. 
Or,  to  put  it  in  other  words,  the  human  frame  is  un- 
equal to  anything  approaching  omnipotence.  All 
history,  from  the  Caesars  onward,  teaches  us  this. 
Strong  as  was  the  intellect  of  Napoleon,  it  formed  no 
exception  to  the  rule. 

For  in  the  first  period  of  his  consulate  he  was  an 
almpst  ideal  ruler.  He  was  firm,  sagacious,  far- 
seeing,  energetic,  just.  He  was,  moreover,  what 
is  not  of  less  importance,  ready  and  anxious  to  learn. 
He  was,  indeed,  conscious  of  extreme  ignorance  on 
the  civil  side  of  his  administration.  But  he  was 
never  ashamed  to  ask  the  meaning  of  the  simplest 
word  or  the  most  elementary  procedure;  and  he 
never  asked  twice.  He  thus  acquired  and  assimi- 
lated all  necessary  information  with  extraordinary 
rapidity.  But  when  he  had  learned  all  that  his 
councillors  could  teach  him,  he  realized  his  immeas- 
urable superiority  to  all  men  with  whom  he  had  been 
brought  into  contact.  He  arrived  at  the  conclusion — 
probably  a  just  one — that  his  genius  was  as  unfailing 
and  supreme  in  the  art  of  statesmanship  as  in  the 
art  of  war,  and  that  he  was  as  much  the  first  ruler 
as  the  first  captain  of  the  world.  That  discovery, 
or  conviction,  backed  by  the  forces  and  resources 
of  France,  inspired  him  with  an  ambition,  at  first 
vague,  but  growing  as  it  was  fed ;  at  last  immeasur- 
able and  impossible.  Nothing  seemed  impracticable, 
nothing  illusory.  Why  should  it?  He  had  never 
failed,  except,  perhaps,  at  Acre.  He  beheld  around 
him  incapable  monarchs,  incapable  generals,  inca- 
pable ministers,  the  languid  barriers  of  a  crum- 
bling society.  There  seemed  nothing  in  the  world  to 
R  257 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

check  a  second  Alexander,  even  one  more  reckless 
and  enterprising  than  he  whose  career  had  inspired 
his  own  boyish  dreams. 

Had  he  proceeded  more  slowly,  had  he  taken  time  to 
realize  and  consolidate  his  acquisitions,  it  is  difficult 
to  limit  the  extent  to  which  his  views  might  have 
been  realized.  But  the  edifice  of  his  empire  was  so 
prodigiously  successful  that  he  would  not  pause, 
even  a  moment,  to  allow  the  cement  to  harden.  And, 
as  he  piled  structure  on  structure,  it  became  evident 
that  he  had  ceased  to  consider  its  base.  That  base 
was  France,  capable  of  heroic  effort  and  endurance, 
of  all,  indeed,  but  the  impossible.  The  limit  at  last 
was  reached.  Great  as  were  her  resources,  she  could 
no  longer  supply  the  reckless  demands  of  her  ruler. 
In  1812  he  left  three  hundred  thousand  Frenchmen 
amid  the  snows  of  Russia.  In  18 13  he  summoned 
one  million  three  hundred  thousand  more  under 
arms.  And  these  were  only  the  culminating  fig- 
ures of  a  long  series  of  overdrafts,  anticipations  of 
the  annual  conscription,  terrible  drains  on  the  popu- 
lation of  France  proper — a  population  of  some  thirty 
millions. 

He,  no  doubt,  had  convinced  himself,  with  that 
faculty  of  self-persuasion  which  is  at  once  the  weak- 
ness and  the  strength  of  extraordinary  minds,  that 
he  had  in  reality  enlarged  his  foundation ;  that  it  had 
increased  in  exact  proportion  to  the  increase  of  his 
dominions ;  that  the  Germans  and  Italians  and  Dutch- 
men and  Spaniards  who  served  under  his  banners 
formed  a  solid  accretion  to  it;  that  his  empire  rested 
on  a  homogeneous  mass  of  eighty  millions  of  equally 
loyal  subjects.  He  seemed  to  consider  that  each  an- 
nexation, however  procured,  added  as  many  valid 

258 


THE   END 

instruments  of  his  policy  as  it  did  human  beings  to 
his  realm.  It  added,  as  a  rule,  nothing  but  veiled 
discontent  and  expectant  revolt.  Frederick  the 
Great  was  wont,  it  is  true,  to  compel  the  prisoners 
whom  he  captured  in  battle  to  serve  in  his  ranks. 
But  he  was  under  no  illusions  as  to  the  zeal  and 
fidelity  of  these  reluctant  recruits.  Napoleon,  how- 
ever, considered,  or  professed  to  consider,  that  the 
populations  that  he  had  conquered  could  be  relied 
upon  as  subjects  and  soldiers.  This  strange  hallu- 
cination indicated  the  loss  of  his  judgment,  and, 
more  than  any  other  cause,  brought  about  his  fall. 
-^  Whom  God  wishes  to  destroy,  says  the  adage.  He 
first  deprives  of  sanity.  And  so  we  see  Napoleon, 
with  incredible  self-delusion,  want  of  insight,  or  both, 
preparing  his  own  destruction  by  dealing  with  men 
as  if  they  were  checkers,  and  moving  them  about 
the  board  according  to  his  own  momentary  whim, 
without  a  thought  of  their  passions,  or  character,  or 
traditions;  in  a  word,  by  ignoring  human  nature. 
Take,  for  one  example,  the  singular  apportionment 
of  souls,  in  a  despatch  of  February  15,  1810 :  "I  ap- 
prove of  this  report  with  the  following  modifications : 
I.  Only  to  take  from  the  Italian  Tyrol  two  hundred 
and  eighty  thousand  souls,  a  population  equal  to 
that  of  Bayreuth  and  Ratisbon.  2.  That  Bavaria 
should  only  give  up  for  the  Kingdom  of  Wurtem- 
burg  and  the  Duchies  of  Baden  and  Darmstadt  a 
population  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  souls. 
So  that,  instead  of  one  hundred  and  eighty -eight 
thousand  souls,  Bavaria  should  gain  two  hundred 
and  forty  thousand  or  two  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand. Out  of  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
souls  ceded  by  Bavaria,  I  think  one  must  give  one 

259 

"Those     VjV).:,^^    -Vvn;,     <?oc^5      <r\«Srtvou     ,-VKy     ^  )'v  tTt 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

hundred  and  ten  thousand  to  Wurtemburg,  twenty- 
five  thousand  to  Baden,  and  fifteen  thousand  to 
Darmstadt."  It  is  only  fair  to  add  that  the  congress 
of  his  enemies  at  Vienna  proceeded,  with  flattering 
imitation,  on  the  same  principles. 

But  the  exasperation  of  the  transferred  and  re- 
transferred  souls  was  not  the  only  result  of  this  mania 
for  cutting  and  carving.  It  produced  a  moral  effect 
which  was  disastrous  to  the  new  empire.  The 
founder  of  such  a  dynasty  should  have  attempted 
to  convince  the  world  of  the  stability  of  his  arrange- 
ments. He  himself,  however,  spared  no  exertion  to 
prove  the  contrary.  Moving  boundaries,  shifting 
realms,  giving  and  taking  back,  changing,  revising, 
and  reversing,  he  seemed  to  have  set  before  himself  the 
object  of  demonstrating  that  his  foundations  were 
never  fixed,  that  nothing  in  his  structure  was  defi- 
nite or  permanent.  It  was  the  suicide  of  system. 
His  bitterest  enemies  could  hardly  have  hoped  to 
suggest  that  conquests  so  dazzling  were  transient 
and  insecure,  had  he  not  taken  such  infinite  pains 
to  prove  it  himself. 

Austria  and  Prussia  he  had  conquered ;  Spain  and 
Italy  he  had  annexed;  he  reckoned  these,  therefore, 
as  submissive  auxiliaries.  Russia  he  had  both 
defeated  and  cajoled ;  so  all  was  at  his  feet.  He  never 
seems  to  have  given  a  thought  to  the  storm  of  undying 
hatred,  rancor,  and  revenge  that  was  chafing  and 
raging  below. 

He  added  a  Spanish  contingent  to  his  grand  army, 
when  the  Spaniards  were  cutting  the  throat  of  every 
Frenchman  whom  they  could  find.  He  added  a 
Prussian  contingent,  when  he  must  have  known,  had 
he  been  sane,  that  no  Prussians  could  ever  forgive 

260 


THE   END 

him  the  humiliations  which  he  had  heaped  upon 
their  country.  He  added  an  Austrian  contingent 
at  a  time  when  a  much  less  clear-sighted  observer 
must  have  been  aware  that  it  was  merely  a  corps 
of  hostile  observation. 

Supreme  power,  then,  destroyed  the  balance  of  his 
judgment  and  common-sense,  and  so  brought  about 
his  fall.  But  it  was  not  the  only  cause.  There  was 
another  factor.  He  was  deeply  imbued  with  the 
passion  of  warfare.  It  is  difficult  to  realize  the  full 
strength  of  this  fascination,  for,  though  all  soldiers 
feel  the  fever  of  the  field,  it  is  rarely  given  in  all  the 
countless  generations  of  the  world  to  experience  it 
in  its  full  strength,  as  one  who  enjoys,  as  absolute 
ruler,  the  sole  direction,  responsibility,  and  hazard 
of  great  wars.  But  if  common  men  love  to  risk 
chances  in  the  lottery  or  with  the  dice,  on  the  race- 
course or  the  stock  exchange,  if  there  they  can  find 
the  sting  of  excitement,  war  is  the  gambling  of  the 
gods.  The  haunting  risk  of  disaster;  the  unspeak- 
able elation  of  victory;  the  gigantic  vicissitude  of 
triumph  and  defeat;  the  tumult  and  frenzy  and 
divine  sweat;  the  very  scorn  of  humanity  and  all 
that  touches  it,  life  and  property  and  happiness, 
the  anguish  of  the  dying,  the  horror  of  the  dead — 
all  these  sublimated  passions  not  merely  seem  to 
raise  man  for  a  moment  beyond  his  fellows,  but 
constitute  a  strain  which  human  nerves  are  not  able 
long  to  endure.  And  Napoleon's  character  was  pro- 
foundly affected  by  the  gambling  of  warfare.  The 
star  of  his  destiny,  which  bulked  so  largely  in  his 
mind,  was  but  the  luck  of  the  gambler  on  a  vast 
scale.  He  had  indeed  his  full  measure  of  the  gross 
and  petty  superstition  which  ordinarily  accompa- 

261 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

nies  the  vice.  And  so,  even  in  his  most  desperate 
straits,  he  cannot  bring  himself  to  close  the  account 
and  sign  a  peace;  for  he  always  cherishes  the  gam- 
bler's hope  that  fortune,  or  the  star  of  destiny,  or 
whatever  it  be  called,  may  yet  produce  another  trans- 
formation, and  restore  all  his  losses  by  a  sudden 
stroke. 

Generals,  as  a  rule,  are,  fortunately,  controlled 
by  governments  in  matters  of  policy.  But  when 
the  supreme  captain  is  also  the  supreme  ruler,  there 
is  nothing  to  restrain  him  from  the  awful  hazard: 
he  stakes  once  too  often,  and  ruins  his  country, 
having  already  lost  himself.  Charles  XXL  was 
often  in  the  mind  and  on  the  lips  of  Napoleon  during 
the  Russian  campaign. 

Of  scarcely  any  sovereign  warrior  but  Frederick 
can  it  be  said  that  he  sheathed  the  sword  at  the  right 
time,  and  voluntarily  kept  it  in  the  scabbard.  But 
his  case  was  peculiar.  He  had  had  terrible  lessons. 
He  had  been  within  an  ace  of  ruin  and  suicide.  No 
conqueror  had  ever  seen  so  much  of  the  horrors  of 
defeat.  There  are  not  many  examples  in  history 
of  annihilation  so  complete  as  that  of  Kunersdorf : 
there  are  few  indeed  of  triumphant  resuscitation  after 
such  a  disaster.  And  when  Frederick  had  recovered 
the  material  waste  and  loss  of  his  long  war,  his 
blood  had  cooled;  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  have 
passed,  and,  what  was  more  important,  to  know 
that  he  had  passed,  that  season  of  war  in  the  life 
of  man  which  Napoleon  defined.  So  he  consolidated 
his  conquests  and  died  in  peace. 

Napoleon  sometimes  spoke  lightly  of  him  as  a 
general  when  at  St.  Helena.  We  doubt,  however, 
if  he  thought  lightly  of  Frederick  as  a  man,     Fred- 

262 


THE   END 

erick  had  been  his  immediate  prototype.  Had 
Frederick  never  hved,  Napoleon  might  have  had  a 
different  career.  And  indeed,  as  it  was,  he  might 
have  learned  other  lessons  from  the  Prussian  king; 
for  Frederick,  though  inferior  to  Napoleon  in  all 
else,  in  force  and  scope  and  scale,  was  his  superior 
in  two  respects.  Had  Napoleon  possessed  the  astute 
moderation  and  the  desperate  tenacity  of  Frederick, 
the  destinies  of  France  and  of  Europe  would  have 
taken  a  different  turn. 

We  hold,   then,   that  the  Emperor  had  lost  the 
balance  of  his  faculties  long  before  he  finally  fell. 
But  this  is   not  to   say  that  he  was   mad;  except, 
perhaps,  in  the  sense  of  Juvenal's  bitter  apostrophe 
to  Hannibal.     Sanity  is  a  relative  term.     Napoleon  i 
at  his  outset  was  phenomenally  sane.     His  cool, 
calculating   shrewdness  and  his   intense  common- 
sense  were  at  least  in  proportion  to  his  vast,  but 
still  bounded,  ambition.     From  such  singular  sanity 
to  the  limits  of  insanity  there  is  an  immeasurable 
distance.     Napoleon's  impaired  sanity  was  superior    ' 
to  the  judgment  of  the  vast  majority  of  mankind ;  but 
— here  lay  the  fatal  change — it  had  ceased  to  bear    1 
any  proportion  to,  or  exercise  any  control  over,  his    I 
ambition.     When  that  check  was  removed  he  was    | 
a  lost  man. 

At  what  precise  period  the  overbalancing  of  this 
great  intellect  took  place  it  is  of  course  impossible 
to  say,  for  the  process  was  of  necessity  gradual  and 
almost  imperceptible.  Some  may  incline  to  think 
that  it  was  apparent  even  before  he  became  Em- 
peror; that  the  lawless  abduction  and  wanton  ex- 
ecution of  Enghien  may  mark  the  beginning.  That 
proceeding,  no  doubt,  denotes  not  merely  a  criminal 

263 


NAPOLEON:    THE   LAST   PHASE 

lawlessness,  but  an  irritability,  a  want  of  decency 
and  control,  a  recklessness  of  cause  and  effect  which 
were  new  in  Napoleon.  Some  may  surmise  that 
there  is  a  visible  alteration  after  Wagram.  That 
period  seems  too  late;  though  he  was  then  standing 
on  a  pinnacle,  from  which  he  saw  all  the  kingdoms 
of  the  earth  spread  out  before  him — a  pinnacle,  lofty 
and  sublime,  but  with  a  foothold  both  giddy  and 
insecure.  Any  attempt,  however,  to  fix  exact  dates 
for  a  psychological  change  would  need  a  volume 
in  itself.  It  is  sufficient  for  our  purpose  to  point 
out  that  the  alteration  did  occur,  and  that  the 
Napoleon  of  1810,  for  example,  was  a  very  different 
being  to  the  Napoleon  of  1801.  The  Napoleon  who 
declared  at  one  time  that  all  the  countries  of  Europe 
should  keep  their  archives  in  Paris,  and  at  an- 
other that  the  French  empire  would  become  the 
mother  country  of  all  sovereignties,  that  all  the  kings 
,  of  the  earth  should  have  palaces  of  residence  in  Paris, 
j  and  attend  in  state  the  coronations  of  the  French 
\  Emperors ;  the  Napoleon  who  refused  to  make  peace 
in  1813  and  1814,  had  obviously  lost  the  balance  of 
his  reason.  So  obvious  was  this  that,  in  the  last 
days  of  his  first  reign,  there  was  a  conspiracy  in 
Paris  to  dethrone  him  on  the  ground  of  insanity. 
It  is  easy,  too,  to  pronounce  with  absolute  certainty 
that  the  loss  of  balance  and  soundness  had  occurred 
at  Bayonne  in  1808,  and  on  the  Niemen  in  1812. 
(  He  had  then  ceased  to  calculate  coolly,  and  to  see 
i  any  bounds — moral,  physical,  or  international — 
I  to  any  freak  of  ambition  which  might  occur  to  him. 
In  the  Russian  campaign  there  is  visible  a  feverish, 
reckless  desire  to  strain  his  fortune  to  the  utmost, 
to  push  his  luck,  as  gamblers  say,  and  to  test,  as  it 

264 


THE   END 

were,  the  extreme  limits  of  his  destiny.  He  himself 
said  of  the  Treaty  of  Leoben  that  he  had  played  at 
vingt-et-un  and  stopped  at  twenty.  Later  in  life  he 
demanded  twenty-one  at  every  coup. 

And  in  another  way  this  overbalanced,  overween-  JL 
ing  individuality  contributed  to  his  fall.     He  had  no 
check  or  assistance  from  advice,  for  his  ministers 
were  ciphers.     It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the 
blind  idolatry  of  Bassano  had  much  to  do  with  the 
imperial  catastrophe.     Great  responsibility,  too,  is  j 
attributed  to  the  compliance  and  deference  of  Ber- 
thier.    Napoleon  was  apparently  safe  from  all  rivalry. 
But  yet  he  could  not  endure  that  there  should  be  ap- 
proved merit  or  commanding  ability  near  him  to  share 
the  lustre  of   his  government.     That   government, 
indeed,  was  so  conducted  as  to  render  it  impossible 
for  men  of  independent  ability  to  serve  under  it.    For  1 
such  an  administration  mediocrity  was  a  necessity,  M- 
and  high  capacity  an  embarrassing  superfluity.   Had  , 
he  died  suddenly,  he  would  have  left  behind  him  a 
vast  number  of    trained    subordinates  and   a  few 
brilliant  malecontents.     In  itself  this  fact  sufficiently  i 
proves  the  weakness  of  his  government,  without  tak-  | 
ing    into   account   its   morbid   centralization.     His 
system,  putting  his  impracticable  ambition  on  one 
side,  must  have  brought  the  empire  to  ruin  at  his 
death,  unless  he  had  been  able,  which  for  a  man  of  his 
temperament  was  in  the  last  degree  improbable,  to 
make  a  complete  change,  and  fashion  a  new  system 
which  would  give  ability  fair  play  and  which  might 
exist  without  himself.     Some  young  men  of  promise, 
such  as  Mol6  and  Pasquier,  he  did  indeed  train,  but  he 
secured  none  of  their  devotion.     It  is  probable  that 
they  perceived  that  as  they  rose  in  the  hierarchy  they 

265 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

would  lose  his  patronage,  and  that  brilliancy  could  not, 
j  in  the  long  run,  be  otherwise  than  distasteful  to  him. 
\  It  is  strange  that  jealousy,  if  jealousy  it  were,  should 
1  enter  into  the  composition  of  so  rare  a  supremacy. 
One  feature  of  this  attitude  was  that  he  was  always 
on  his  guard,  says  one  who  knew  him  well,  against 
"T  the  ambition  of  his  generals.  That  and  popular  dis- 
content were  what  he  most  feared.  So  he  kept  his 
generals  at  arm's  length,  blamed  them  easily,  com- 
mended them  parsimoniously.  It  was  only  the  dead, 
such  as  Desaix  and  Kleber,  whom  he  praised  with 
warmth.  Thus,  except  two  or  three  who  had  known 
him  in  his  youth,  they  approached  him  with  fear  and 
trembling.  And  even  these  early  friends  loved  him 
in  spite  of  themselves.  Lannes  would  deplore,  be- 
tween smiles  and  tears,  in  Napoleon's  presence,  his 
unhappy  passion  for  cette  catin,  and  the  Emperor 
would  laugh  at  his  rueful  tirades,  being  sure  of  his 
Lannes.  The  awe  of  the  others  was  not  ill-founded. 
Take,  for  example,  this  authentic  incident.  One  day 
at  a  lev^e  Napoleon  sees  St.  Cyr,  one  of  his  ablest 
lieutenants.  He  goes  up  to  him  and  says,  placidly : 
"General,  you  come  from  Naples?"  "Yes,  Sire, 
after  giving  up  the  command  to  General  Perignon, 
whom  you  had  sent  to  replace  me."  "You  have,  no 
doubt,  received  the  permission  of  the  Minister  of 
War?"  "No,  Sire,  but  I  had  nothing  more  to  do  at 
Naples."  "If,  within  two  hours,  you  are  not  on  the 
road  to  Naples,  I  will  have  you  shot  on  the  plain  of 
Grenelle  before  noon,"  replied  Napoleon,  in  the  same 
tranquil  tone.  He  rewarded  them  with  titles  and 
appanages,  but  not  with  credit.  Indeed,  "he  would 
have  no  glory  but  his  own,  he  only  believed  in  his 
.  own  talents." 

266 


THE   END 

Stendhal,  who  was  a  man  of  genius,  and  whose 
opinions  are,  therefore,  worth  noting,  thinks  that  one 
of  the  two  main  causes  of  the  fall  of  the  Emperor 
was  this  taste  for  mediocrity.  The  mediocrity  for 
which  Mirabeau  is  said  to  have  prayed.  Napoleon 
avowedly  loved.  For  of  this  preference  he  made  no 
secret.  What  he  wanted  was  instruments  and  not 
ministers.  What  he  feared  and  disliked  was  not  so 
much  the  competition  as  the  ambition  and  criticism 
of  superior  ability.  Two  men  of  eminent  parts  were 
long  in  his  employment  and  necessary  to  his  em- 
pire. When  he  discovered  that  they  were  consid- 
ered indispensable  to  him,  his  vigilant  egotism  took 
alarm,  and  he  got  rid  of  them.  It  is  difficult  in  all 
history  to  cite  a  personage  more  infamous  and  more 
loathsome  than  Fouche.  But  he  was  a  master  of 
those  vile  arts  which  despotism  requires  in  a  minister 
of  police.  He  was,  in  truth,  a  pestilent  instrument 
which  it  was  equally  dangerous  to  utilize  or  to  neg- 
lect. Napoleon  did  both,  a  course  which  combined 
both  disadvantages.  Talleyrand,  cynical  and  igno- 
ble as  he  was  in  many  respects,  stands  on  a  higher 
level,  and  may  find  some  excuse,  not  merely  in  the 
laxity  and  exigencies  of  a  revolutionary  epoch,  but 
in  a  cool  foresight  which  gives  color  to  the  plea  that, 
while  doing  his  best  for  himself,  he  was  doing  the 
best  for  France.  That  question  does  not  concern 
us.  But,  in  spite  of  indolence,  and  in  spite  of  cor- 
ruption, he  was  a  consummate  foreign  minister  and 
an  unrivalled  diplomatist.  Up  to  the  time  of  the 
Spanish  imbroglio  he  was  Napoleon's  close  confi- 
dant, as  he  had  been  one  of  the  earliest  associates 
of  his  fortunes.  Napoleon  charged  him  with  ad- 
vising the  policy  with  regard  to  Spain  and  then  de- 

267 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

nouncing  it.     Talleyrand  denied  the  charge.     We 
are  inclined  to  think  that  both  were  right.     Talley- 
rand, as  we  learn  from  his  intimate  friend,  Mme. 
de  R^musat,  openly  declared,  and  had  no  doubt  ad- 
vised the  Emperor,  that  "a  Bourbon  was  an  incon- 
venient neighbor  to  Napoleon,  and  it  was  doubtful 
whether  such  a  neighbor  could  be  tolerated."     But 
he  entirely  disapproved  of  Napoleon's  proceedings. 
In  a  word,  he  probably  gave  the  impulsion  and  in- 
spired the  idea,  while  Napoleon  found  the  methods. 
Possibly  something  of  the  same  kind  occurred  with 
regard  to  the  Enghien  affair.     The  fact,  however, 
that  we  have  to  deal  with  is  the  rupture,  not  its  cause. 
I  For  we  are  persuaded  that,  had  Napoleon  been  able 
i  to  retain  and  work  with  Talleyrand,  his  fall  would 
\  not  have  taken  place.     He  quarrelled  with  both  Tal- 
"^  j  leyrand  and  Fouche,  and  was  never  able  to  replace 
them. 

His  relations  to  both  these  officials  throw  an  in- 
instructive  light  on  the  cynical  side  of  his  character. 
I  He  grossly  and  publicly  insulted  Talleyrand  on  more 
+ 1  than  one  occasion,  outrages  in  essence  and  style  so 
( intolerable  that  no  man  could  forgive  them.     Yet 
Napoleon  in  his  troubles  sent  for  Talleyrand,  and 
began  talking  to  him  confidentially  about  politics. 
In  the  midst  of  their  conversation,  Talleyrand  calmly 
remarks,  "But,  by-the-bye,  I  thought  we  had  quar- 
;  relied."     Napoleon    dismisses  the   remark   with   a 
'   "Bah!"    Talleyrand,  however,  had  then  been  long 
j   in  close  relations  with  Russia,  and  was  not  to  be  won 
back.     Fouche,   too,   was  dismissed  with  disgrace. 
f   He  openly  hated  Napoleon,  and  passed  his  exile  in 
intriguing   against   him.     Napoleon   was   ignorant 
neither  of  the  hatred  nor  the  intrigues.     But  in  1815, 

268 


THE   END 

as  we  have  seen,  he  whistles  him  back,  and  intrusts    • 
him  with  one  of  the  most  dehcate  and  important  of- 
fices at  his  disposal,  the  one  which  gives  the  best 
opportunity  for  betrayal. 

Many  other  causes  for  his  overthrow  have  been 
alleged,  but,  in  our  judgment,  they  are  ancillary  to 
those  that  we  have  cited.  And,  as  a  rule,  they  are, 
strictly  considered,  rather  effects  than  causes ;  it  was 
the  causes  of  his  overthrow  which  produced  these 
disastrous  errors.  His  faults  of  policy  were,  no 
doubt,  in  his  later  reign,  numerous  and  obvious 
enough.  But  they  were  not,  as  is  often  popularly 
stated,  th5  causes  which  effected  his  ruin,  but  rather 
the  effects  and  outcome  of  the  causes  which  pro- 
duced his  ruin.  And  this  much  more  must  be 
said  in  fairness  for  them,  that,  viewing  them  from 
their  political  aspect,  and  putting  aside  all  moral 
tests,  they  were  grand  and  not  wholly  extravagant 
errors.  Life  was  too  short  for  his  plans.  The  sense  ^ 
of  this  ma3eTum~ii5ipaHenran(3~"violent  in  his  pro- 
ceedings. And  so  his  methods  were  often  petty — 
not  so  his  policy.  His  gigantic  commercial  struggle  ; 
with  England  was  an  impossible  effort,  but  it  was  one 
which  distinguished  economists  have,  on  a  smaller 
scale,  often  since  endeavored  to  repeat.  Nor  is  it 
easy  to  see,  in  the  absence  of  an  efficient  fleet,  what 
other  weapon  was  available  with  which  to  attack 
his  world-wide  enemy.  Again,  the  Spanish  ex-  i 
pedition  was  a  blunder  in  method  but  not  neces- 
sarily in  policy.  Louis  XIV.  had  carried  out  the 
same  policy  with  conspicuous  success.  And  Napo- 
leon could  not  foresee  that  a  people  which  had 
long  supported  dynasties  so  contemptible  would/ 
rise  like  one  man  against  his  own.     Again,  the 

269 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

X  Russian  expedition  was  a  blunder,  but  Russia  was 
the  fatal  leak  in  his  continental  system,  and  he 
might  well  refuse  to  believe  that  the  Russia,  which 
had  succumbed  after  Friedland,  would  burn  her 
ancient  capital  and  her  secular  shrines  rather  than 
again  submit.  Again,  the  contest  with  the  Pope 
j  was  a  blunder,  so  grave  that  some  thinkers  believe 
that  it  mainly  contributed  to  his  fall.  But  it  was 
the  blunder  of  the  Holy  Roman  Emperor  and  most 
Catholic  King,  Charles  V.,  who  had  aspired  to  add 
the  sacred  crowns  of  the  papacy  to  his  own  diadem, 
,  and  accumulate  in  his  own  person  all  the  preroga- 
tives, secular  and  divine,  of  supreme  authority. 
Napoleon's  methods  towards  the  Holy  See  were 
brutal,  but  Charles  sacked  Rome. 

We  have  no  doubt  that  Napoleon,  after  bringing 
Russia  into  his  system,  and  crippling  or  crushing 
Great  Britain,  aspired  vaguely  to  becoming  in  some 
way  Lord  Paramount  of  Europe.  We  question, 
however,  whether  the  idea  ever  assumed  actual 
shape,  except  in  regard  to  the  West,  or  was  ever 
more  than  a  dream  of  dominion.  He  must  have 
known  that  he  could  not  bequeath  so  personal  a 
power  to  his  son,  but  he  probably  thought  that  a 
mere  remnant  of  his  empire  would  be  a  rich  inherit- 
ance for  his  posterity.  For  himself,  he  would  have 
outstripped  those  dead  rivals  who  looked  back  on  him 
from  the  page  of  history,  and  lured  him  on ;  his  only 
rivals,  on  whom  his  inner  eye  was  always  emulously 
fixed.  And  he  would  have  bequeathed  a  name 
before  which  all  others  would  pale,  and  all  future 
generations  yield  unquestioned  homage. 

There  is  one  question  which  English  people  ask 
about  great  men,  which  one  cannot  put  with  regard 

270 


THE  END 

to  Napoleon  without  a  sense  of  incongruity  which 
approaches  the  grotesque.  Was  Napoleon  a  good  -|- 
man?  The  irresistible  smile  with  which  we  greet 
the  question  proves,  we  think,  not  the  proved  in- 
iquity, but  the  exceptional  position  of  this  unique  per- 
sonality. Ordinary  measures  and  tests  do  not  ap- 
pear to  apply  to  him.  We  seem  to  be  trying  to  span 
a  mountain  with  a  tape.  In  such  a  creature  we  ex- 
pect prodigious  virtues  and  prodigious  vices,  all 
beyond  our  standard.  We  scarcely  remember  to 
have  seen  this  question  seriously  asked  with  regard 
to  Napoleon,  though  Metternich  touches  on  it  in  a 
fashion;  it  seems  childish,  discordant,  superfluous. 
But  asked  nakedly  in  the  ordinary  sense,  without 
reference  to  the  circumstances  of  the  time,  it  can 
admit  but  of  one  prompt  reply.  He  was  not,  of 
course,  good  in  the  sense  that  Wilberforce  or  St. 
Francis  was  good.  Nor  was  he  one  of  the  virtuous 
rulers:  he  was  not  a  Washington  or  an  Antonine. 
Somewhere  or  another  he  has  said  that  he  could  T 
not  have  achieved  what  he  did  had  he  been  religious, 
and  this  is  undoubtedly  true.  In  England  his  name 
was  a  synonym  for  the  author  of  all  evil.  He  was, 
indeed,  in  our  national  judgment,  a  devil  seven  times 
worse  than  the  others.  But  then  we  knew  nothing 
at  all  about  him.  He,  had  he  been  himself  asked 
the  question  and  understood  it,  would  at  once  have 
discriminated  between  the  public  and  the  private 
man.  He  would  have  said  that  private  morality 
had  nothing  to  do  with  statecraft,  and  that  state- 
craft, if  it  had  a  morality  at  all,  had  a  morality  of 
its  own.  His  own  morals,  he  would  have  said,  and 
indeed  thought,  were  extremely  creditable  to  so  alto- 
gether exceptional  a  being.     To  use  a  common  vul- 

271 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

garism,  he  was  not,  we  think,  so  black  as  he  is 
painted.  The  tone  of  his  age,  the  accepted  and 
special  latitude  accorded  to  monarchs  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  the  circumstances  and  temptations  of 
his  position  must  be  taken  into  account.  Men  must 
judge  men  not  absolutely  but  relatively,  as  they 
would  themselves  be  judged.  Circumstance,  epoch, 
environment,  training,  temptation,  must  all  be  taken 
into  account  if  you  would  test  the  virtues  of  man- 
kind. An  abstinent  man  when  starving  will  choke 
himself  with  a  meal  from  which  a  glutton  would 
shrink.  A  temperate  man  in  extreme  weakness 
will  swallow  without  injury  draughts  of  brandy 
which  would  drown  a  drunkard.  And  so  with  Na- 
poleon. His  lot  was  not  cast  in  a  monastery  or 
in  a  pulpit.  He  came  from  Corsica  a  little  pagan, 
viewing  the  world  as  his  oyster.  He  was  reared  in 
the  life  of  camps  and  in  the  terrors  of  revolution. 
He  was  raised  to  rule  a  nation,  which,  in  the  horrors 
of  a  great  convulsion,  had  formally  renounced  and 
practically  abjured  Christianity.  He  had  to  fight 
for  his  own  hand  against  the  whole  world.  It  was 
breathless  work  which  gave  little  time  for  reflection. 
What  he  said  of  religion  we  have  seen.  What 
he  thought  of  religion  we  do  not  know.  He  grasped, 
no  doubt,  its  political  force.  He  would  have  un- 
derstood the  military  value  of  the  loyal  piety  of  the 
Tyrolese,  or  the  stern  fanaticism  of  the  Covenanters. 
That  he  deemed  religion  essential  to  a  nation  he 
proved  by  his  bold  achievement  of  the  concordat. 
It  is  clear,  too,  that  he  thought  the  same  of  morality, 
of  the  sanctity  of  the  family,  of  public  and  even 
private  virtue.  He  was  never  weary  of  inculcating 
them.     But  it  never  even  occurred  to  him  that  these 

272 


THE   END 

rules  were  applicable  to  himself,  for  he  soon  re-  i 
garded  himself  as  something  apart  from  ordinary  T 
raen.  He  did  not  scruple  to  avow  his  conviction. 
4  "I  am  not  a  man  like  other  men/'  he  would  say; 
"  the  laws  of  morality  and  decorum  could  not  be  in- 
tended to  apply  to  me."  He  was,  it  may  be  fairly 
alleged,  indulgent  and  affectionate  to  his  family, 
particularly  in  his  first,  better  years;  dutiful  to  his 
mother ;  kind  to  his  early  friends.  He  wished  to  be 
a  good  husband  according  to  his  lights.  He  would 
have  cherished  his  son  had  he  been  allowed.  He 
was  a  tender  brother  in  his  early  years,  especially  to 
Louis,  who  rewarded  him  by  the  grossest  suspicions 
of  a  hypochondriac.  He  was  free  from  the  sordid 
cares  of  personal  wealth  or  personal  avarice.  He 
was  quick  to  wrath,  but,  according  to  the  best  and 
keenest  judges,  easily  appeased.  "Always  kind, 
patient,  and  indulgent,"  says  M^neval.  Mme.  de 
R^musat,  a  hostile  and  observant  chronicler,  nar- 
rates several  instances  of  his  consideration  and 
tenderness,  as  well  as  of  his  susceptibility  to  the 
pleading  fondness  of  Josephine.  Mme.  de  R6musat 
witnessed  in  1806  a  scene  of  almost  hysterical  and 
insurmountable  emotion  when  Napoleon  embraced 
Talleyrand  and  Josephine,  declaring  that  it  was 
hard  to  part  from  the  two  people  that  one  loved 
the  most;  and,  utterly  imable  to  control  himself, 
fell  into  strong  convulsions.  This  was  no  comedy. 
There  was  nothing  to  gain.  It  was  the  sudden  and 
passionate  assertion  of  his  heart. 

But,  it  must  be  admitted,  this  was  an  exceptional  ; 
case.     In  the  final  deteriorated  phase  of  his  charac-  1 4 
ter  there  is  no  trace  of  friendship.     In  one  or  two  in- 
stances he  may  have  felt  it.     But  he  had  no  friends. 
S  273 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST  PHASE 

Duroc  most  nearly  approached  to  that  intimate  char- 
acter. Napoleon,  on  assuming  the  crown,  had  bade 
Duroc  continue  to  call  him  "thou/'  a  rare  if  not  a 
singular  privilege.  Duroc  he  called  his  conscience. 
From  Duroc  he  was  said  to  have  no  secrets.  But 
Duroc  stood  alone.  Great  masses,  who  knew  him 
only  in  his  public  capacity,  chiefly  as  a  general, 
adored  him  to  the  last.  The  private  soldiers  who 
marched  from  France  to  Waterloo  were  inspired  with 
an  enthusiasm  for  him  which  at  least  equalled  that  of 
the  soldiers  at  Marengo  or  Austerlitz.  But  that  en- 
thusiasm diminished  in  proportion  to  remoteness  from 
the  rank  and  file.  Officers  felt  it  less  in  an  ascend- 
ing scale,  and  when  the  summit  was  reached  it  was 
no  longer  perceptible.  It  had  long  since  ceased  to 
be  felt  by  those  who  knew  the  Emperor  most  inti- 
mately. Friendship,  as  we  have  seen,  he  had  delib- 
erately discarded  as  too  close  a  relation  for  other  mor- 
tals to  bear  to  himself.  Many,  too,  of  his  early 
friends  had  died  on  the  field  of  battle,  friends  such 
as  Lannes,  Desaix,  and  Duroc.  But  some  had  sur- 
vived and  left  him  without  ceremony,  or  even  decency. 
Berthier,  his  life-long  comrade,  the  messmate  of  his 
campaigns,  his  confidant,  deserted  him  without  a 
word,  and  did  not  blush  to  become  captain  of  Louis 
XVIII. 's  bodyguard.  His  marshals,  the  compan- 
ions of  his  victories,  all  left  him  at  Fontainebleau, 
some  with  contumely.  Ney  insulted  him  in  1814, 
Davoust  in  1815.  Marmont,  the  petted  child  of  his 
favor,  conspicuously  betrayed  him.  The  loyal  Cau- 
laincourt  found  a  limit  to  his  devotion  at  last.  Even 
his  body  attendants.  Constant  and  Rustan,  the  valet 
who  always  tended  him,  and  the  Mameluke  who 
slept  against  his  door,  abandoned  him.     It  was  dif- 

274 


THE   END 

ficult  to  collect  a  handful  of  officers  to  accompany 
him  to  Elba,  much  more  difficult  to  find  a  few  for  St. 
Helena.  The  hopeless  followers  of  ungrateful  mas- 
ters, the  chief  mourners  of  misfortune  who  haunted 
the  barren  antechambers  of  the  Bourbons  and  the 
Stuarts,  had  no  counterpart  in  the  exile  of  Napoleon. 
We  need  not  reproach  a  nation,  for  that  nation  found 
many  faithful  adherents  for  their  ancient  kings. 
Moreover,  his  wife,  who  left  him  without  a  sigh,  who 
wrote,  when  under  his  roof,  that  she  was  only  happy 
by  his  side,  and  who,  after  his  death,  wrote  that  she 
had  never  felt  any  real  affection  for  him,  was  an  Aus- 
trian. We  must  regretfully  attribute  this  alienation, 
discreditable  as  it  is  to  the  deserters,  as  more  dis- 
creditable to  Napoleon  himself.  Bertrand,  as  we 
have  seen,  who,  if  alone,  can  claim  the  halo  of  fidel- 
ity, avowed  the  truth  at  St.  Helena,  not  in  anger, 
but  in  sorrow :  "  The  Emperor  is  what  he  is ;  we  can- 
not change  his  character.  It  is  because  of  that  char- 
acter that  he  has  no  friends,  that  he  has  so  many 
enemies,  and,  indeed,  that  we  are  at  St.  Helena.'' 

And  yet  we  must  not  distribute  this  judgment  over 
his  whole  career;  it  applies  only  to  that  part  of  it 
which  was  essentially  imperial  and  partially  insane. 
Until  he  chose  to  make  a  demigod  of  himself,  and  de- 
liberately cut  himself  off  from  humanity,  he  was 
kind,  generous,  and  affectionate;  at  any  rate,  if 
that  be  too  partial  a  judgment,  he  was  certainly  not 
the  reverse. 

But  in  the  full  swell  of  his  career  it  would  never 
have  crossed  his  mind  that  these  attributes,  any  more 
than  veracity  or  sympathy,  had  any  relation  to  him. 
They  were  right  and  proper  for  others,  but  for  him 
something  more  or  something  less  was  required. 

275 


NAPOLEON:   THE   LAST   PHASE 

They  were  qualities  for  mere  men ;  and  the  ordinary 
restraints,  Hke  the  ordinary  objects,  of  mere  men  had 
ceased  to  have  any  meaning  for  him. 

Was  he  a  great  man?  That  is  a  much  simpler 
question,  but  it  involves  definitions.  If  by  "  great " 
be  intended  the  combination  of  moral  qualities  with 
those  of  intellect,  great  he  certainly  was  not.  But 
that  he  was  great  in  the  sense  of  being  extraordi- 
nary and  supreme  we  can  have  no  doubt.  If  great- 
ness stands  for  natural  power,  for  predominance, 
for  something  human  beyond  humanity,  then  Na- 
poleon was  assuredly  great.     Besides  that  indefina- 

>  ble  spark  which  we  call  genius,  he  represents  a  com- 
bination of  intellect  and  energy  which  has  never 
perhaps  been  equalled,  never,  certainly,  surpassed. 
He  carried  human  faculty  to  the  farthest  point  of 

I  which  we  have  accurate  knowledge.  Alexander  is 
a  remote  prodigy,  too  remote  for  precise  comparison. 
To  Caesar  the  same  objection  is  applicable.  Homer 
and  Shakespeare  are  impersonal  names.  Besides, 
we  need  for  comparison  men  of  action  and  business. 
Of  all  these  great  figures,  it  may  be  said  that  we  do 
not  know  enough.     But  Napoleon  lived  under  the 

.  modern   microscope.     Under   the   fiercest   glare   of 

i  scrutiny  he  enlarged  indefinitely  the  limits  of  human 
conception  and  human  possibility.    Till  he  had  lived 

;  no  one  could  realize  that  there  could  be  so  stupen- 
dous a  combination  of  military  and  civil  genius,  such 
comprehension  of  view  united  to  such  grasp  of  de- 
■  tail,  such  prodigious  vitality  of  body  and  mind. 
"He  contracts  history,"  said  Mme.  d'Houdetot, 
"and  expands  imagination."  "He  has  thrown  a 
doubt,"  said  Lord  Dudley,  "on  .all  past  glory;  he 
has  made  all  future  renown  impossible."    This  is 

276 


THE   END 

hyperbole,  but  with  a  substance  of  truth.  No  name 
represents  so  completely  and  conspicuously  domin- 
ion, splendor,  and  catastrophe.  He  raised  himself 
by  the  use,  and  ruined  himself  by  the  abuse,  of  su- 
perhuman faculties.  He  was  wrecked  by  the  ex- 
travagance of  his  own  genius.  No  less  powers  than 
those  which  had  effected  his  rise  could  have  achieved 
his  fall. 


APPENDIX 


I.  CAPTAIN  MAITLAND 

Napoleon  Bonaparte,  when  he  came  on  board 
the  Bellerophon,  on  the  15th  of  July,  1815,  wanted  ex- 
actly one  month  of  completing  his  forty-sixth  year,  being 
born  the  15th  of  August,  1769.  He  was  then  a  remark- 
ably strong,  well-built  man,  about  five  feet  seven  inches 
high,  his  limbs  particularly  well  formed,  with  a  fine 
ankle  and  very  small  foot,  of  which  he  seemed  rather 
vain,  as  he  always  wore  while  on  board  the  ship  silk 
stockings  and  shoes.  His  hands  were  also  very  small, 
and  had  the  plumpness  of  a  woman's  rather  than  the 
robustness  of  a  man's.  His  eyes  light  gray,  teeth  good  ; 
and  when  he  smiled  the  expression  of  his  countenance 
was  highly  pleasing ;  when  under  the  influence  of  dis- 
appointment, however,  it  assumed  a  dark,  gloomy 
cast.  His  hair  was  of  a  very  dark  brown,  nearly  ap- 
proaching to  black,  and,  though  a  little  thin  on  the  top 
and  front,  had  not  a  gray  hair  among  it.  His  com- 
plexion was  a  very  uncommon  one,  being  of  a  light 
sallow  color,  differing  from  almost  any  other  I  ever  met 
with.  From  his  having  become  corpulent,  he  had  lost 
much  of  his  personal  activity,  and,  if  we  are  to  give  credit 
to  those  who  attended  him,  a  very  considerable  portion 
of  his  mental  energy  was  also  gone.  .  .  .  His  general 
appearance  was  that  of  a  man  rather  older  than  he  then 
was.  His  manners  were  extremely  pleasing  and  affa- 
ble :  he  joined  in  every  conversation,  related  numerous 

279 


APPENDIX 

anecdotes,  and  endeavored,  in  every  way,  to  promote 
good-humor :  he  even  admitted  his  attendants  to  great 
famiharity ;  and  I  saw  one  or  two  instances  of  their  con- 
tradicting him  in  the  most  direct  terms,  though  they 
generally  treated  him  with  much  respect.  He  possessed, 
to  a  wonderful  degree,  a  facility  in  making  a  favorable 
impression  upon  those  with  whom  he  entered  into  con- 
versation :  this  appeared  to  me  to  be  accomplished  by 
turning  the  subject  to  matters  he  supposed  the  person 
he  was  addressing  was  well  acquainted  with,  and  on 
which  he  could  show  himself  to  advantage. 

2.  SENHOUSE 

July  15,  1815. 
His  person  I  was  very  desirous  of  seeing,  and  I  felt 
disappointed.  His  figure  is  very  bad ;  he  is  short,  with 
a  large  head,  his  hands  and  legs  small,  and  his  body  so 
corpulent  as  to  project  very  considerably.  His  coat, 
made  very  plain,  as  you  see  it  in  most  prints,  from  be- 
ing very  short  in  the  back,  gives  his  figure  a  more  ridic- 
ulous appearance.  His  profile  is  good,  and  is  exactly 
what  his  busts  and  portraits  represent ;  but  his  full  face 
is  bad.  His  eyes  are  a  light  blue,  with  a  light  yellow 
tinge  on  the  iris,  heavy,  and  totally  contrary  to  what  I 
expected ;  his  teeth  are  bad ;  but  the  expression  of  his 
countenance  is  versatile,  and  expressive  beyond  meas- 
ure of  the  quick  and  varying  passions  of  the  mind.  His 
face  at  one  instant  bears  the  stamp  of  great  good- 
humor,  and  immediately  changes  to  a  dark,  penetrating, 
thoughtful  scowl,  which  denotes  the  character  of  the 
thought  that  excites  it. 

3.  BUNBURY 

July  31,  1815. 
Napoleon  appears  to  be  about  five  feet  six  inches  high. 
His  make  is  very  stout  and  muscular.    His  neck  is  short, 

280 


APPENDIX 

and  his  head  rather  large;  it  is  particularly  square 
and  full  about  the  jaw,  and  he  has  a  good  deal  of  double 
chin.  He  is  bald  about  the  temples,  and  the  hair  on 
the  upper  part  of  his  head  is  very  thin,  but  long  and 
ragged,  looking  as  if  it  were  seldom  brushed.  In  the 
management  of  his  limbs  Napoleon  is  ungraceful;  but 
he  used  very  little  gesture,  and  the  carriage  of  his  head 
is  dignified.  He  is  fat,  and  his  belly  projects ;  but  this 
is  rendered  more  apparent  by  the  make  of  his  coat,  which 
has  very  short  lapels  turned  back,  and  it  is  hooked  tight 
over  the  breast  to  the  pit  of  the  stomach,  and  is  there 
cut  suddenly  away,  leaving  a  great  display  of  white 
waistcoat.  He  wore  a  green  uniform  with  scarlet  collar 
and  scarlet  edging  to  the  lapels,  but  without  lace  or  em- 
broidery; small  gilt  buttons,  and  gold  epaulettes.  He 
had  a  white  neckcloth,  white  waistcoat  and  breeches, 
silk  stockmgs,  and  shoes  with  small  gilt  buckles,  A 
very  small  old-fashioned  sword,  with  a  worked  gold  hilt, 
was  buckled  tight  to  his  hip.  He  wore  the  ribbon  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor  over  his  waistcoat,  and  the  star,  in  sil- 
ver embroidery,  on  his  coat.  There  were  also  three  very 
small  orders  hanging  together  at  one  of  his  button-holes. 
His  hat,  which  he  carried  most  of  the  time  under  his  arm, 
was  rather  large,  quite  plain,  and  having  an  extremely 
small  tricolor  cockade.  Napoleon  took  snuff  frequently 
during  the  interview;  the  box  was  not  showy;  it  was 
rather  long,  and  appeared  to  have  four  coins  or  medals 
set  in  its  top. 


Napoleon's  eyes  are  gray,  the  pupils  large ;  not  much 
eyebrow ;  hair  brown ;  complexion  sallow,  and  the  flesh 
sodden.  His  nose  is  finely  formed,  his  upper  lip  very 
short,  and  the  mouth  beautiful.  His  teeth  are  bad 
and  dirty,  but  he  shows  them  very  little.  The  general 
character  of  his  countenance  was  grave  and  almost  mel- 

281 


v**»i'^7^'^>'*--"'- 


APPENDIX 

ancholy ;  but  jio  trace  of  severity  or  violent  passion  was 
allowed  to  appear.  I  have  seldom  seen  a  man  of  stronger 
make,  or  better  fitted  to  endure  fatigue. 


4.  LADY  MALCOLM 

June  25, 1816,  .  .  .  The  following  is  Lady  Malcolm's 
idea  of  his  figure:  His  hair  of  a  brown -black,  thin 
on  the  forehead,  cropped,  but  not  thin  in  the  neck, 
and  rather  a  dirty  look ;  light  blue  or  gray  eyes ;  a  ca- 
pacious forehead;  high  nose;  short  upper  lip;  good 
white  even  teeth,  but  small  (he  rarely  showed  them) ; 
round  chin;  the  lower  part  of  his  face  very  full;  pale 
complexion;  particularly  short  neck.  Otherwise  his 
figure  appeared  well  proportioned,  but  had  become  too 
fat ;  a  thick,  short  hand,  with  taper  fingers  and  beauti- 
ful nails,  and  a  well-shaped  leg  and  foot.  He  was  dressed 
in  an  old  threadbare  green  coat,  with  green  velvet  collar 
and  cuffs ;  silver  buttons  with  a  beast  engraven  upon 
them,  his  habit  de  chasse  (it  was  buttoned  close  at  the 
neck) ;  a  silver  star  of  the  Legion  of  Honor ;  white  waist- 
coat and  breeches;  white  silk  stockings;  and  shoes 
with  oval  gold  buckles.  She  was  struck  with  the  kind- 
ness of  his  expression,  so  contrary  to  the  fierceness  she 
had  expected.  She  saw  no  trace  of  great  ability;  his 
countenance  seemed  rather  to  indicate  goodness.  .  .  . 


5.  HENRY 

Sept.  I,  1817. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  plain  dark  green  uniform  coat  with- 
out epaulettes,  or  anything  equivalent,  but  with  the  star 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor  on  the  breast,  which  had  an  eagle 
in  the  centre.  The  buttons  were  gold,  with  the  device 
of  a  mounted  dragoon  in  high  relief.  He  had  on  white 
breeches  and  silk  stockings,  and  oval  gold  buckles  in 

282 


APPENDIX 

his  shoes ;  with  a  small  opera  hat  under  hie  arm.  Na- 
poleon's first  appearance  was  far  from  imposing,  the 
stature  was  short  and  thick,  his  head  sunk  into  the  shoul- 
ders, his  face  fat,  with  large  folds  under  the  chin ;  the 
limbs  appeared  to  be  stout  and  well  proportioned,  com- 
plexion olive,  expression  sinister,  forbidding,  and  rather 
scowling.  The  features  instantly  reminded  us  of  the 
]jrints  of  him  which  we  had  seen.  On  the  whole  his  gen- 
eral look  was  more  that  of  an  obese  Spanish  or  Portu- 
guese friar  than  the  hero  of  modern  times.  .  .  . 

A  fascinating  prestige,  which  we  had  cherished  all  our 
lives,  then  vanished  like  gossamer  in  the  sun.  The 
great  Napoleon  had  merged  in  an  unsightly  and  obese 
individual ;  and  we  looked  in  vain  for  that  overwhelming 
power  of  eye  and  force  of  expression,  which  we  had  been 
taught  to  expect  by  a  delusive  imagination. 


THE  END 


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